Becca's POV
My entire life fits into one duffel bag and a cardboard box that used to hold a coffee maker.
I set both down in the middle of Maple House's foyer and watched them look small before me.
“Wowww…” I catch myself saying that when I look up, it truly looks magnificent.
The ceiling stretches up two full stories above me, ringed with a balcony I could probably fit my whole old apartment onto, and the marble floor is polished to a shine that makes my sneakers feel like an insult to the building.
Somewhere above me, a chandelier the size of a compact car sheds fractured light across walls hung with portraits of McDermotts who've been dead longer than my grandparents.
"Ms. Herman." A woman in a gray uniform materializes at the base of the staircase, her hands folded behind her,
