The following morning, Marian arrived at the office earlier than usual.
The city was still waking up, the sky pale gray, the air cool against her skin as she stepped out of the cab. Normally she would stop for coffee, gather her thoughts, mentally prepare for meetings.
Today, she walked straight inside.
Her heart had been restless since the night before. She couldn’t explain it logically—there was no concrete proof that something was wrong—but every instinct she had was screaming the same thing.
Go home.
Go back to Los Angeles.
Be with Isabella.
She barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Isabella’s small face on the screen—quieter, thinner, dimmer than the vibrant little girl they knew.
By the time she reached her boss’s office, her decision was solid.
“Can I talk t
