CHAPTER 97

Ella's POV

"I will have her go over the list again. You can stop by my room after you've eaten. I have something to discuss with you." Madame Browne's voice sliced with an edge of finality, as sharp as a knife clicking home.

I nodded, an action more out of habit than respect, as my mind began to spiral into a knot of dread. I turned to the array of the generous breakfast spread in front of me, the flaky pastry laid on fine china, fresh fruits glistening under the morning rays of sun, pots of steaming coffee were managed to catch the picture. Obviously, none of that was too tempting. The intent of making this meal was evident-too perfect, it were, as though perfection were set out to blind me from something underneath.

The chef stood stiff beside the table, his eyes smiling hopefully for approval. I forced a polite nod in his direction, though the tight knot in my stomach made it impossible to even consider eating. I wasn't hungry-just restless. There was something about Madame Browne