Isabelle’s bedroom in the Grayson estate was beautiful.
It had always been beautiful. Her mother had made sure of that when she first arrived. New curtains. Fresh paint. A wardrobe that filled one entire wall. Every detail arranged to say welcome and stay and this is yours now.
Isabelle had understood immediately what that meant.
It meant she had work to do.
She sat at the small vanity table near the window with her phone face down beside her and her hands folded in her lap. Outside the grounds were quiet. Inside the house she could hear distant voices. Her mother’s. Mrs Luciana’s. Sofia’s.
All of them gathered around Mara.
All of them looking at Mara.
All of them rearranging themselves around Mara like planets pulled into orbit by something they could not resist.
Isabelle looked a
