Flora's POV

I sit at the dining table, absently swirling a spoon in my tea. The warmth of the mug doesn’t reach my fingers. I’ve just gotten off the phone with Senator Jones, and my skin is still crawling.

Mirabel’s in the hospital. A car crash. It’s all over the news—breaking headlines flashing across every screen. They say she might not make it.

Across from me, my mom is feeding Aurora, gently spooning mashed fruit into her mouth. Aurora giggles, splattering it onto her chin. Normally, I’d laugh and wipe her face. But this morning, I can barely smile.

“Wicked people,” my mom mutters under her breath, eyes glued to...