I noticed the conflict in Ryder's expression.
It was subtle, barely there, but I caught it—the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers flexed against the counter like he was holding something back.
His lips parted, then closed again.
And then, finally, he exhaled. "Evie... there's nothing you can do."
My stomach clenched. "What?"
"There's nothing I can do, either. Not the way you want or expect me to."
I shook my head. "You want to help, but you won't?" My voice rose. "They—she—deserves to rot, Ryder."
His fingers pressed against the marble. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then why—"
"Because, Evie, how do you expect me to bring Sienna down when her mother is a judge?" His tone was sharp now, frustration bleeding through. "Think about it. Even if you take th
