The apartment felt too quiet after the call ended.
Sheila stood in the center of her living room, the folded press release still clutched tightly in her hand. The words blurred together the longer she stared at them, but the damage they promised remained crystal clear.
Career sabotage. Public humiliation. Professional exile.
All wrapped neatly in Carter’s calculated handwriting.
She exhaled slowly and dropped the paper onto the coffee table, pacing once across the room before forcing herself to stop. Panic wouldn’t help. Panic was exactly what Carter wanted.
A soft knock echoed again at her door.
Not urgent this time.
Measured.
Sheila’s shoulders tensed, but she already knew who it was. She approached carefully and checked the peephole.
Elena still stood there, patient, composed,
