The interrogation room was a stark, unforgiving place, its fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. Miranda Calloway sat at the metal table, her back straight despite the weight pressing down on her. The harsh glow illuminated her face, casting shadows that made her look older, worn. Her once-perfect manicure was chipped, her nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists. She refused to let the fear show, keeping her expression smooth and unreadable, but inside, her heart pounded like a drum. The walls seemed to inch closer with every passing second, the silence heavy with unspoken judgment.
Miranda had faced trouble before—tight spots, scandals, moments where her carefully built life teetered on the edge. She’d always found a way out, twisting words and people to her advanta
