I don't sleep after that.
I lie in the guest room with the tablet screen burned into my memory and those four words sitting in my chest like something with weight. "Confirmed. Notify the client." Three days after my initial bloodwork. Before the procedure. Before any of this became real.
Someone was watching me before I ever knew I was being watched.
I get up at six, shower with the toiletries Isobel apparently stocks with the efficiency of someone who anticipates everything, and go downstairs in yesterday's clothes feeling like a woman who slept three hours because she did.
Dominic is already in the kitchen.
This surprises me. Not because I thought he didn't have a kitchen but because I somehow didn't picture him in it. He's standing at the counter with coffee and his phone and a sti
