The private VIP box high above the pitch offered a perfect view of the chaos unfolding below. England was locked in a tense group stage battle, the stadium vibrating with thirty thousand voices chanting in unison. I could see everything through the large glass windows— the lush green pitch, players sprinting like warriors, the bright lights of broadcast cameras sweeping across the stands. The risk of being seen made my skin prickle.
After the rest area incident, Alex had arranged for us to watch from here. Mom had joined briefly, but her phone rang midway through the first half. "Emergency meeting in Singapore. I have to catch the next flight," she sighed, kissing my cheek and then Alex's. "Take care of Bella for me." Within minutes, she was gone, her assistant following to help with
