I was already seething as I stomped down the hallway toward Mr. Hale’s office, phone clutched in my hand like it was the source of all my problems. Which, to be fair, it kind of was. His clipped tone from our earlier call replayed in my head, and it only fueled my bad mood.
“Miss Isabella, my office. Now.” No pleasantries, no explanation. Just an order.
Like I didn’t have enough on my plate already. Between the humiliating showdown at the coffee shop that morning, Amelia's snide remarks at work, and my growing frustration with everything else, the last thing I needed was Mr. Hale barking demands at me.
But there I was, forcing my feet to move one begrudging step at a time. By the time I reached the polished oak doors of his office, I’d plastered on the most strained, obviously fake s
