ISABELLA
The air inside the manor felt heavy. Suffocating.
I stood near the fireplace, arms wrapped around myself, as Christian paced back and forth, the tension radiating off him like heat from a wildfire. He had barely spoken since that call, but his silence was far more dangerous than his words.
Something had been left behind.
A message.
A warning.
I could see it in the way his shoulders were drawn tight, in the way his fingers curled into fists as if he was barely restraining himself.
“Christian,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “What did they leave?” I hated the suspense. Was it another note?
He stopped pacing, his back to me, head slightly bowed as if debating whether to tell me the truth.
Seconds passed.
And then he exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face
