Before dawn, the attack came. Emly unintentionally found out about it through a phone alert that shouldn't have mattered but did. An article that is trending. Her name. Her countenance. She read every line without blinking, her pulse steady but sharp as she slowly sat up. The item, clothed as an investigative worry, was expertly crafted. Blackwood's unexpected instability was connected to an unidentified woman. It described bits and pieces of her past, such as outdated locations, unfinished work histories, and hints where facts should have been. Nothing was blatantly untrue. That was the risk. When truth was purposefully twisted, its edges were sharper than those of falsehoods. As she got to the conclusion, she could feel the silence pressing down on her. It wasn't exposure. It was framing
