Chapter 11: Cracks in the Foundation
The call came at 2:47 a.m.
I know the exact time because I’d been awake already, sitting in the window seat of the east wing with a glass of water and the particular kind of insomnia that doesn’t bother to announce itself. The kind that just settles in behind your eyes and waits. It just arrived. Quiet and uninvited, settling in beside you like it belongs there, like it has nowhere else to be until morning. The Atherton night outside was still and moonlit, the garden below looking like something from a dream that hadn’t decided yet whether it was good or bad.
My phone screen lit up the dark.
Unknown number. I almost didn’t answer.
“Mira Voss.” The voice on the other end was a woman’s, low, precise, unhurried in the way of someone who has decided th
