The alarm did not wake me; the phone did. It buzzed against the wooden nightstand, a harsh, vibrating intruder in the quiet of the morning. I reached out blindly, squinting against the gray light filtering through the curtains, and tapped the screen. The name displayed was not a personal contact. It was the office line for my publisher. My heart gave a single, hard thump against my ribs. It was too early for a social call, and too specific for a wrong number. I sat up, pulling the duvet around my shoulders, and answered.
"Bella Chen-Valerio," I said, my voice still thick with sleep.
"Bella, it's Sarah from Horizon Press. I hope I didn't wake you."
"You did," I said honestly, swinging my legs out of bed. The floor was cold under my feet. "But it's fine. What's going on?"
"We've been dis
