Miles’s pov
My fists clenched against the thin wooden tabletop in the prison visitation room, knuckles turning white. The sunlight slanted through the barred windows, casting long shadows across Anna’s still face. She sat back in her chair with that unnerving calmness of hers, her dark hair falling over her shoulders like a veil. A faint, almost mocking smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
The air felt thick, suffocating in its stillness.
“You came to visit me,” Anna said, her voice dripping with amusement, as if this was all some game to her.
“I’m not here for any of your games,” I snapped, my voice harsh, desperation coloring my words. “What do you mean, Mom and Dad are responsible for Daphne’s parents’ death?”
Anna stared at me for a moment, her eyes dark and unreadable. Then,
