From This Moment Read Online Free

and more.
    Perhaps it was only fitting that those who flew so close to the sun were most in danger of getting scorched, but she’d never realized how badly it would hurt until it happened.
    Her world had collapsed on a cold December morning when a telegram arrived at her London apartment. The only thing Stella could now be certain of was that life would never be quite as golden as it had been before that telegram arrived.
    Stella pushed away the memories as she trudged down the steps of Boston’s City Hall. Her neck ached from leaning over a stenotype machine all day, her eyes were bleary from transcribing text, and she felt frumpy in this plain dress. It was important to blend in with all the other clerks at City Hall, so immediately after arriving in Boston, she’d bought simple dresses in shades of brown, beige, and bland.
    She strode the half mile to her rooming house, sighing in reliefas circulation returned to her cramped limbs. Her appearance and the tedium of her new job were irrelevant. She’d come to Boston for a single purpose, and the only way she could accomplish it was to blend in. She wore dowdy clothes and averted her gaze from anyone who tried to make conversation with her. She had become quite good at pretending introverted modesty.
    But through it all, she never stopped listening, watching, and observing. The entire scope of her world had narrowed to a single task, and she fixated on it with all pistons firing. Each morning, she awoke with a sense of urgency propelling her as she silently gathered information on a steadfast quest to discover who had killed her sister.
    There was no longer room in her world for art, flirtation, or fashion. The tree-lined streets of Boston were lovely, and the city was vibrant and engaging, but she allowed none of it to penetrate the hard shell she’d built around herself.
    Stella trudged up the steps to her boardinghouse on tired legs. She’d been fortunate to find a respectable room so close to City Hall, even though it meant climbing to the fourth floor each day. The rooms were leased mostly by single men, but Mr. Zhekova had allowed her to board because she was willing to pay three months of rent in advance.
    She walked to the row of brass mail compartments at the end of the dimly lit hall on the first floor. She checked her mailbox daily, always eager for news from home. Her mother’s fragile mental stability was deteriorating again, and if it got any worse, Stella would feel compelled to return home despite her father’s pleas to stay away. Both her parents were floundering, and she couldn’t be certain letting them handle this on their own was the right thing to do.
    She inserted the tiny key into the lock and opened her box to see a single letter propped inside. She reached for it.
    “Ouch!” she shrieked, jerking her hand back and dropping the letter on the tile floor. A low buzz came from the mailbox, and to her horror, a bee careened out of the opening. A second dart of pain pierced her thumb. Bees crawled all over her hand! More poured from the mailbox before she could fling the door shut. She shook her hand, running down the hall in panic.
    A cluster of bees still followed her, and another sting pierced her wrist. She snatched a newspaper from the dining table and tried to swat them away.
    A slew of foreign words sounded from behind her, and Mr. Zhekova came stomping into the room, surprise on his round, bearded face. She twisted and shrieked as a pair of bees buzzed about her. Mr. Zhekova grabbed another section of newspaper and batted at the bees, as well.
    She doubled over in relief as her landlord beat another bee into immobility, then crushed it beneath his boot.
    “Thank you,” she gasped out. Four stings made her entire hand ache and throb. “They were in my mailbox,” she said as soon as she could catch her breath.
    “Why did you put bees in your mailbox?” Mr. Zhekova demanded.
    If she wasn’t so upset, she would have laughed. “I