By the time I reached my apartment door, my head was pounding. The long walk back from the legal aid office had done nothing to calm me. Every sound on the street had scraped against my nerves. Every passing car felt like it slowed just a little too much. Every footstep behind me made me flinch. Fear had become something alive inside me, breathing down my neck, whispering reminders that someone else was pulling the strings.
But none of it prepared me for the sight waiting on the floor beneath my door.
A thick envelope. Heavy. Luxurious. Out of place in my narrow, dimly lit hallway.
My heart dropped.
I crouched slowly and picked it up. The paper felt expensive, dense enough that it almost resisted bending under my fingers. Embossed in the upper corner was a crest I recognized instantly.
