Living With the Boy Who Hated Me
Right on cue, my stomach let out a fierce, demanding growl that echoed in the quiet room, signaling that an immediate trek down to the lower levels of the estate to locate the kitchen was no longer optional.
Stepping into the wide, unfamiliar corridor, I navigated the foreign layout for roughly a minute before arriving outside Beatrice’s designated quarters. I offered a quick, courtesy rap against the wood before pushing the door inward, only to find the room completely vacant, the sheets neatly undisturbed.
Downstairs, the playlist shifted abruptly into a chaotic, syncopated electronic rhythm. The intense vibrations traveled upward through the structural beams, causing the floor beneath my