Still scrolling through my laptop, I couldn’t help but feel a smug little satisfaction from the morning's petty encounter with Mia. I was reviewing some emails when a soft knock on my door pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Come in!” I called, not bothering to look up.
A maid peeked her head in timidly, her voice soft as she said, “Breakfast is ready, Miss Isabella.”
“Thanks,” I replied, shutting my laptop. I stretched my arms over my head, feeling the slightest ache from lounging in bed for too long. Getting up, I quickly retied my hair into a loose bun, slipped on a pair of flip-flops, and padded toward the door. The hallway was quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes echoing from downstairs.
By the time I reached the dining room door, I hesitated. The embarrassment of yesterday
