The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the steady, rhythmic breathing of Isabella. Olivia sat stiffly on the velvet sofa, her expression one of controlled irritation. For hours, she had remained motionless, her lap serving as a pillow for the girl who had finally—mercifully—succumbed to exhaustion.
Olivia let out a sharp, impatient huff, her sightless eyes directed toward the ceiling as if she could see the slow crawl of time across the molding. To anyone else, it might have looked like a moment of maternal tenderness, but Olivia's thoughts were far from soft.
How much longer does this brat intend to use me as a mattress? she thought, her fingers drumming restlessly against the armrest.
