Katrina's room was dimly lit; the only sound was the soft creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet as she paced back and forth. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her mind consumed by the events that had unfolded.

The death of Barry remained a mystery, a puzzle she couldn't seem to solve. How had he died? What had happened to Clarissa afterward? The questions swirled in her head, taunting her with their silence.

As she paced, Katrina's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She felt frustrated, trapped, and helpless. She had always been the one in control, the one who pulled the strings. But...