Chapter 23
(Angela’s POV)
It wasn’t long before my eyes stared towards to the dresser, where last night’s grilled fish which was now cold and abandoned, still sat in its foil bag beside a half-finished bottle of malt. Given how yesterday evening went, I thought I’d tear into it the moment I got home, maybe even with a bit of excitement.
But sleep had taken hold of me faster than hunger, leaving the meal untouched, like so many things lately that didn’t seem to follow their natural course.
I considered tossing it, then paused. Instead of discarding it outright, it made more sense to call the butler and have him check if it was still worth eating. If it wasn’t, I’d leave it to him to do with it whatever he thought best.
So I dialed his number. The butler had a room in the secondary apa
