Ella

As soon as I step through the door, the familiar scent of rich mahogany and leather fills my senses. My father's study is exactly as I remember it, its timeless elegance undisturbed.

Dad stands by the large window, looking out into the garden, but he turns the moment I walk in. His face breaks into a smile, and for a split second, the weariness in his eyes vanishes.

"Ella," he says warmly, walking over to me. "It's good to see you." He pulls me into ...