The phone felt like a foreign object in her hand.
Elara sat at the small desk in her room, the morning light now fully illuminating the space that had felt so intimate just hours ago and now felt like a stage for her own interrogation. The Harbour Crescent files were stacked neatly beside her, but she couldn't look at them. All she could see was the number on her phone screen. Her mother's. She had been staring at it for ten minutes, her thumb hovering over the connect button, unable to make the call.
How did you begin a conversation like this? Hi, Mum. By the way, I got married six weeks ago to a billionaire who sees our family as a business risk. The thought was so absurd it was almost funny. Almost.
Downstairs, she could hear the low murmur of the television in the living roo
