Dianna's death hadn't just shocked the world—it had left Agnes shattered, unable to accept the grim truth that her friend had been murdered. What made it worse was the silence surrounding it. Even her own parents claimed to have no idea who was behind it.
And Agnes wasn't sure if she believed them.
She knew Dianna had threatened to expose them after they refused to help bail Rita out. Dorothy had been furious—panicked, even. She said they needed to act fast, that Dianna was a loose cannon. But before they could do anything… someone else got to her first.
Now, Agnes sat curled on the edge of the couch, her knees drawn tightly to her chest, her eyes distant and haunted. An invisible weight pressed down on her, a fear that gnawed at her from the inside out. Something about it all felt unfinished. Unsafe.
"Here," Eric said softly, kneeling beside her and holding out a glass of water. "Drink something. You haven't been yourself since Dianna's death hit the headlines."
