D O M I N I C
The council were back again. This time, their faces were a mask of neutrality, but I could feel the hostility simmering beneath the surface. They were like sharks circling their prey, and we were the bleeding chum in the water.
They had already taken over the dining room, transforming it into a makeshift command center. Laptops whirred, printers spat out documents, and phones buzzed with a constant, irritating hum. The air was thick with the sterile scent of coffee and takeout food. Our home, our sanctuary, had been violated.
Beatrice sat at the head of the table, her fingers steepled, her cold, blue eyes fixed on the screen of her laptop. The lawyer, whose name I learned was Mr. Davies, was on the phone, his voice a low, persuasive murmur.
Adrian's body still laid in the
