Ella
As the sun peeked through the gaps in my curtains, illuminating the quiet of my bedroom, my phone buzzed.
The name on the screen—Logan—made my heart race. It had been a week since our conversation at the bar, and while the weight of his story still lingered between us, our professional relationship had felt as though it solidified.
“Morning,” I answered, my voice still raspy from sleep. “You’re calling me bright and early today.”
“Ella,” he greeted, his tone more formal than I’d grown used to. “The last case you handled for me went well. I have another one, but this... it’s different. More complicated. A lot more complicated.”
I sat up, intrigued. “Complicated how?”
He paused, choosing his words carefully. “There’s been a murder. On a property I own.”
The
