Mara's Pov

I stood inside Philip’s old study, my eyes fixed on his table. Every detail from the nightmare—the sharp scent of Camille’s perfume, the gleam of the needle, the way Philip’s hand had fallen limp—felt more like a suppressed memory than a hallucination.

I knew. I didn't just suspect anymore. I knew.

I thought about the autopsy report I had locked in my office drawer. It said he was injected with a toxin and traces were found in his system.

"Mara?"

The voice made me jump. I spun around, my heart hammering against my ribs. Camille was standing a few feet away, her hands folded neatly in front of...