“The nurseries usually send their invoices directly to my business email,” I said.
“They sent a paper copy this time,” he said, offering that familiar, rapid nod. “Just to confirm the delivery schedule.”
“Let me see it,” I said, extending my hand. “I can add it to the ledger tonight.”
“No need,” he said, stepping into the library. “I already approved it. Go get your work done, Emma. You have a long day tomorrow.”
I stood in the quiet hallway for a moment, the floor cold through my socks.
My office was the only room in the house that felt entirely mine, smelling of printer paper and the black coffee I bought for four dollars at the corner shop down the street. It was a small room on the second floor, tucked behind the guest suite where the Wi-Fi signal was weak but the quiet was absolute.
I opened my silver-plated laptop, the metal cool against my palms.
