Gabriella’s P.O.V

I didn’t wait for anyone to open the door. I pushed it open myself, the heavy mahogany creaking as it gave way beneath my palm. The moment I stepped into the grand foyer of my father’s mansion, the scent of lemon polish and lilies hit me like a memory I had long packed away in a velvet box. I didn’t waste time soaking it in. My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as I barked.

“Someone get my bags upstairs. Now.”

The maids scattered ...