The car pulls up to the estate just after two-thirty.
I'm tired… not the exhausted, can't-function kind from the past week, but the normal tiredness that comes from four hours of focused work.
My brain feels used in a productive way instead of spinning uselessly in circles.
It's a better kind of tired.
Mrs. Wen is in the entryway when I walk in, arranging fresh flowers in the large vase by the stairs.
She looks up and smiles. "Young Master. You're back early."
"Session ended at two," I say, setting my bag down.
"How did it go?"
"Productive. We made good progress on the integration."
"That's wonderful." She adjusts one of the stems. "Would you like lunch? You left without breakfast."
My stomach is still unsettled, but less than it was this morning.
"Maybe something light. I'll be in the study."
"I'll bring something up shortly."
I nod and head toward the stairs. Then stop, because I hear it. The faint sound of typing coming from the living room.
Someone's home.
Bael.
