The screen flickered with the final frames of Brent Reed’s confession before fading to black, leaving the room in stunned silence. His hollow eyes, the nervous tremor in his voice—every word had been a carefully rehearsed lie, an orchestrated scheme to extort money from the Winters heiress.
"So, you are that Winters." Rhea’s whisper cut through the quiet, her gaze shifting to Freya, who remained motionless, her eyes still fixed on the darkened screen.
Freya exhaled slowly, her voice steady despite the weight pressing against her chest. "Yes, I am that Winters." She didn’t turn to meet the curious stares burning into her. Years of discipline had taught her to wear indifference like armor—lessons carved into her from childhood, when whispers of bastard followed her like shadows. She had le
