Two Day's Later
"We need a war council," Sandra declared, her voice crackling through Beauty's phone speaker with the kind of determination that had earned her three journalism awards before she turned twenty-eight. "And we need it now."
Beauty sat on her couch in the same pajamas she'd worn for two days, surrounded by empty coffee cups and crumpled tissues. The reality of her suspension had settled into her bones like a chronic ache, making even simple tasks feel insurmountable.
"Sandra, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but…"
"No buts," Sandra interrupted. "Agnes is driving over with actual food, because apparently you've been living on crackers and spite. I'm bringing my laptop and every investigative tool I've learned in five years of exposing corporate corruption. We're going
