ISABELLA
My first day back at the museum felt like stepping into a life I used to know. Familiar halls, faces and routines. But underneath all of it, something felt… shifted. Like the ground had moved while I was gone.
The morning meeting was packed — upcoming international shipments, insurance renewals, the restoration timeline for the Baroque collection, and the new climate‑control system being installed in the East Wing. I tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting.
Halfway through the meeting, the door opened and Cara, one of the executive assistants, hurried in with a thick folder.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, slightly breathless. “But I need a signature on this immediately. The courier is waiting downstairs.”
My boss — the acting CEO — frowned. “What is it?”
“Authorization fo
