I slipped out of the grand hall of the Wellington mansion, careful not to draw attention from the staff bustling quietly through the weekend chores. They had resumed this morning following official communication from Matthew through the house manager. The sun had set but its warmth was still felt across the manicured lawns and the edges of the ornate fountain. I needed air, space, something private. Somewhere Matthew’s meticulous choreography couldn’t touch me.

My phone vibrated insistently ...