Soon, the sound of rolling wheels and footsteps echoed from the hallway. The woman's high heels made a particularly pleasant clicking sound. A moment later, silence fell.
Ashley Bowen covered her head with a pillow and, hiding under the covers, cursed Yuri Sinclair for being a scumbag.
She drifted off into a groggy sleep. By the time she woke up, sunlight was already flooding the room.
Ashley Bowen opened her eyes. Rubbing them, she glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand—it was exactly six-thirty. She dragged her exhausted body out of bed, brushed her teeth, and trudged downstairs for breakfast.
As soon as she reached the first-floor landing, Ashley saw a woman sitting at the dining table in the hall. Yuri Sinclair was in his usual place at the head of the table, eating his meal with slow, deliberate movements.
Ashley's mouth fell open. She descended the last few steps, walked to the dining table, and stopped across from the woman. 'She's sitting in my seat!'
