The morning sun did not bring relief. It brought judgment.
Maya stood in the center of the massive walk-in closet in the guest room, staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked exhausted. Dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes, a stark contrast to the pale fear etched into her features.
She reached up and touched her chest. The hard, rectangular outline of the prototype chip was still there, hidden inside her bra. It felt heavier today, like a stone dragging her down into deep water.
She had survived the kitchen. She had survived Julian's hands on her skin, his breath against her neck, the way he had looked at her like a starving man looking at a feast. But she had only survived by telling a lie.
A boyfriend.
She closed her eyes, groaning softly. Why did she
