Three weeks after Tris died, Hudson finally began breathing differently again.
Not peacefully.
Just quieter.
Like a city exhausted from carrying secrets for too long.
The seventh floor of Hudson Crest Hotel had already been permanently closed by authorities. Yellow barricade tapes surrounded the entire west wing while investigators continuously entered and exited the establishment almost every day.
News spread quickly afterward.
Illegal transactions.
Missing women.
Government connections.
Bribed officials.
Hidden surveillance files.
The city practically devoured the scandal whole.
Some people acted shocked.
Others acted unsurprised.
Because deep down—
Hudson had always known something ugly existed beneath its polished buildings and expensive hotels.
People simply preferred
