MAYA

“The... CCTV...” Isabella’s hand shook as she shoved her phone toward him, the screen inches from Silas’s face. She was clawing at the air, desperate to show him the proof even as his grip stayed firm. “It shows... her, Silas. I have... proof.”

Silas didn't look at the phone yet. His gaze shifted back to me, searching for the truth.

“It has to be edited,” I snapped. My palms pressed against the wooden seat to force myself to stand, but my knees gave way after only an inch. Dropping back onto the chair made the room tilt and spin. Suddenly, the oversized jacket seemed to grow heavier with every...