Cynthia pushed past the glass doors of the building, her breath visible in the biting air. Her fingers trembled as she opened her ride-hailing app, but her thoughts were too jumbled to focus. Her chest still heaved with panic, her mind replaying Isabella’s sinister words and Collins’ smug betrayal.

She was framed. Used. Disposable.

Just as she confirmed her location and waited for the driver’s arrival, her phone buzzed again. Another text.

Her stomach flipped.

Unknown Number: Please pick up. I swear I didn’t want to be part of this. Please, Cynthia.

Her fingers hovered again. She hesitated. Her instincts screamed at her not to trust anyone—but what choice did...