Robert Moreau arrived like a fault line shifting beneath the city.
Bella learned of it the same way she learns most things now, indirectly.
A message from her father, brief and casual.
Back in town earlier than expected. Dinner tomorrow?
Her phone suddenly felt heavier in her hand.
She reread the message twice, then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less ominous.
Dinner.
Normal. Innocent.
Except nothing about this felt either.
She typed back a careful reply.
Of course. Let me know where.
When she set the phone down, unease crept in slowly, threading itself through her chest.
Julian hadn’t reached out.
Not since the meeting.
That silence that once merely painful, now felt strategic.
Bella went about her day with deliberate focus, but Robe
