Liana’s POV
The city below looks like it’s made of glass and ash. Z-Core Tower gleams against the morning light, its mirrored skin catching every illusion I helped build.
I used to love this view, the sense of order, the illusion of being above the chaos. But now, all I see is reflection: lies polished until they shine.
On my desk, the evidence sits in quiet accusation, a laptop, three encrypted drives, and a folder of legal documents I haven’t signed yet. My hands hover above the papers. The air feels heavy, the kind of stillness that comes right before something breaks.
I play the audio again. I need to hear it one more time, even though every syllable tears another layer off me.
“Elia wanted to escape,” Stanley’s voice says in that patronizing calm he always wore like cologne. “S
