Quentin’s POV
Every wall falls if you pull the right threads.
And Thora? She was building hers out of people.
People were easy to unravel.
I sat in the visiting room, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the table cold metal against my palms. My lawyer slid a folder across to me, his mouth tight.
“You wanted updates.”
I flipped it open. Notes, names, scraps of background pulled from databases and whispers.
Her list.
Dr. Patel. The teacher. A landlord. A daycare worker.
Ordinary people. Fragile ones.
I smiled.
“Good,” I murmured. “Start with Patel.”
It’s funny what a single rumor can do. You take a small stain—old paperwork, a complaint once filed and forgotten—and you let the right reporter find it. You don’t have to invent the dirt; you just blow dust into the cracks and the p
