BELLA'S POV
The summons came through a maid.
That was the first thing I noticed, not a knock on my door, not his voice in the hallway, not even a text to the number I didn't yet have for him. A maid. Petra, the quiet one who moved through the kitchen like smoke, appearing in my doorway at nine-fifteen with her hands folded in front of her and the particular expression of someone delivering a message they have been told to deliver without editorial.
"Mr. Hayes would like to see you in the study," she said. "When you're ready."
When you're ready was polite fiction and we both understood it as such.
"Thank you," I said.
She nodded and disappeared.
I was sitting on the edge of my bed in yesterday's oversized sweatshirt, my coffee going cold on the nightstand, my journal open on the page
