CHAPTER 149
The water in this guest ensuite was different from the torrents that had defined the master suite.
It was polite, steady, and entirely devoid of the violent roar that had echoed through the halls during the storm of their shared collapse.
It cascaded over Isabella's trembling shoulders in gentle mist, providing a stark contrast to the soul-shredding storm she had just stepped out of.
She stood beneath the lukewarm spray with her eyes clamped shut so tightly that patterns danced behind her lids, leaning her forehead against the cool, cream-colored porcelain wall.
She was trying, with every fiber of her being, to find the exact point where that intoxicating "Sovereign high" finally ended and her own tattered soul began.
She was alone now, the silence of the room pressing against her ears that felt heavier than the water.
