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Ethan Grant brought the police to me himself. There was no guilt in his eyes—only cold, shining relief. "Sophie Lane... she's gone. You were the last person to see her." His voice shook not with grief, but with excitement. The woman beside him was sobbing softly, leaning into his arms like she might break. But when she glanced up at me, I caught a smug little smile tugging at her lips. "Jessica Reed, how could you be so cruel? Even if you hate me, you shouldn't do that to me," she sobbed. Together, they built the perfect prison for me, using public opinion and evidence to publicly crucify me and leave me drowning in shame. They thought I was done for—a lawyer accused of murder, my reputation destroyed, with no hope of ever bouncing back. But they didn't know I could carry myself with grace in calm days, and fight even more elegantly when the storm came. Especially when I had nothing left to lose.