With the sun high in the sky, a knock came at Olivia Wynne's door, just like any other morning.
The person in bed groggily threw back the covers and grumbled, "Who is it?"
The man standing outside the door frowned slightly upon hearing the woman's disgruntled voice.
"Get up. Time for breakfast."
The man's deep, resonant voice cut straight through to Olivia Wynne's ears.
Olivia immediately recognized the speaker as Zachary Fairchild and knew it was morning and time for breakfast.
Her eyes were sore and scratchy, and she could barely open them.
Olivia slowly got up, slipped on her slippers, and shuffled toward the bathroom.
Her mind had been a chaotic mess last night, turning things over until two or three in the morning before she finally fell asleep. She felt terrible now and needed to splash cold water on her face to wake up.
