When Matthew Powell stepped into the apartment, the first thing that caught his eye was the woman seated stiffly on the sofa.
She was dressed in clothes so plain they bordered on outdated—muted colors, loose fabric, nothing that hinted at care or refinement. Her complexion was sallow, almost waxy, and the deep lines etched into her face made her look older than Laura Katic Lang, despite being her younger sister. There was a fatigue about her, a dryness in her eyes that suggested years of complaint rather than hardship.
Beside her sat a young woman in her early twenties.
The contrast was jarring.
The girl was strikingly beautiful—undeniably so. Her features bore a faint resemblance to Sarah Lacy, especially around the eyes and brows, though where Sarah carried calm composure, this girl
