Jessica's POV.

The phone rang, slicing through the oppressive silence of my small, dingy studio apartment. I glanced at the screen: it was the man I had hired, Sam. My heart raced, both from the tension of the moment and from the residual effects of my recent upheaval. I swiped to answer.

“Sam,” I said, my voice tight with anxiety and anticipation. “Did you do it?”

“Jessica,” he replied, his voice gruff and measured, “the job is done. I made sure she wouldn’t survive.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me, but it was quickly followed by a gnawing frustration. “Are you sure? I don’t want any mistakes.”...