Cameras flashed from every corner as Iris dropped to her knees, the sound of the clicking shutters filling the air like a swarm of locusts. She wore a sleek black gown that clung to her curves. A black fascinator perched on her head, its delicate veil casting a shadow across her tear-streaked face, partly obscuring her features but not her pain.

The moment she arrived at the police station, the paparazzi had swarmed her, hurling questions like stones about Elliot's arrest.

Iris forced her chest to rise and fall dramatically, her breathing labored as her mascara streaked down her cheeks in inky trails. Her trembling hands clutched at the folds...