ELLA
I woke up smiling.
Not the soft, sleepy kind. The sharp one that came with victory.
The guest room ceiling stretched above me—high, white, trimmed with the kind of molding that cost more than most people’s rent—and for a moment I simply lay there, breathing it in. The quiet. The space. The knowledge that I was back where I belonged.
The Grant mansion.
I rolled onto my side, sheets whispering against my skin, and let my fingers trail over the silk pillowcase. Everything here felt intentional. Permanent. Like the house itself knew who was supposed to occupy it.
And I was done being on the outside.
I got out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. The shower warmed quickly, steam fogging the glass as I stepped under the spray. I tilted my face up and closed my eyes, letting t
