Today, I wake up feeling so ill that Ian and Elsa literally have to beg me to stay at home. Not that I mind. I'm not in the mood for my coworkers' judgment, for the way they look at me like I'm sin, the way they point and whisper whenever they see me.

Normally, I would have been getting some extra sleep, especially since my whole body feels boneless. But I'm lying awake instead, staring at the ceiling as my thoughts race from one corner of my mind to the other.

I just received a phone call minutes ago.

Not just any phone call, but one from Forester Jones, the...