Zoe's POV
I had never been afraid of tomorrow the way I was that night.
The apartment felt unusually quiet, though nothing about it was truly silent. The refrigerator hummed softly in the kitchen. A car horn sounded somewhere below the building. The wind pushed faintly against the balcony doors. Ordinary sounds. Familiar sounds.
Yet every one of them felt distant, as though I were listening from underwater.
Mr. Donovan stood at the dining table with a thick brown file in front of him. The file was open, papers spread carefully across the polished wood, some clipped together, others marked with colored tabs. Legal documents. Witness statements. Photographs.
Evidence.
Garrett sat beside Chloe, but neither of them was speaking. I stood near the window, arms folded tightly across my chest, trying to convince myself that this was just another conversation.
It wasn't.
