ISABELLA
The atmosphere in the manor had shifted.
It was subtle at first—whispers among the maids, the sharp glances exchanged when they thought I wasn’t looking. The tension that followed Christian like a shadow, clinging to every corner of the house.
Something had changed.
I could feel it.
And it terrified me.
I sat on the edge of my bed, the weight of exhaustion pressing against my shoulders. Georgia had insisted I rest after what happened, and I had agreed, if only to keep her from fussing over me more than she already had.
But sleep never came.
Not when Christian was out there, prowling the house like a caged predator, his fury simmering beneath the surface.
Not when the memory of that car racing toward me replayed in my mind over and over again.
The creak of the bedroom do
