SINCLAIR’S POVDarkness had been my only companion.A silence so complete, I thought maybe I’d drowned in it—become part of it.But then, little by little, the quiet fractured.At first, it was pressure. A low hum against my temples. Then warmth—a sharp, blinding light slicing through the back of my eyes. My chest heaved, my ribs rattled. My lungs remembered air before my mind remembered a name.The beeping came next. A steady rhythm. Mechanical. Too steady to belong to my heart.My eyelids dragged upward, every inch heavier than the last, until the ceiling swam into focus. White. Too white. Too clean.A voice so soft and feminine—wrapped around me.“Oh, thank God. You’re awake…”I blinked slowly, turning my head. A woman sat by the bed, elegant in a way that felt staged. Her hair fell in smooth waves. Her perfume was sharp, floral, cloying. She was holding my hand like it belonged to her.She smiled, glossy lips trembling as if the tears brimming in her eyes had been rehearsed.“Sinc

APRIL’S POVThe room was cold.A single lamp swung above me, casting a harsh circle of light that made everything else feel like shadow. I sat at the steel table, my hands free now but still burning from where the cuffs had dug into my wrists.The detectives entered. Same faces as before, but harder this time. Less patient. Less curious. More determined to nail me to a wall I didn’t belong on.“Miss Dawn,” Detective Reeves began, dropping a file onto the table with a thud. “We’ve been at this dance before, haven’t we? But this time, we’re not here for theatrics. We’re here for answers.”His partner, Detective Harper, leaned against the wall, arms folded. Her eyes scanned me like she was stripping me bare.I swallowed, forcing my spine straight. “Then ask your questions.”Reeves flipped the file open. “Sinclair Hale’s accident. We’ve reviewed every angle, every witness statement, every scrap of evidence. And yet—” he snapped the file shut again, leaning in close, “—it all points back t