Rain stings my face as I stand across the street from the Carter Memorial Gala, watching limousines glide beneath crystal chandeliers. My mechanical arm hums under the sleeve, a constant reminder of what I lost—and what I’ve become. Three years in Blackmarsh Prison taught me how to survive. Tonight, I learn how to destroy.

I adjust the earpiece. "You’re live," says Renner’s voice. "Security’s tight. They’ve upgraded since you were last inside."

"They won’t recognize me," I whisper. "Not with this face, this name, this body."

But it’s not just the scars. It’s the silence in my chest where trust used to be.

Across the courtyard, Jennifer laughs, radiant in silver, accepting a humanitarian award for her ‘bravery’ during the fire. The lie burns hotter than the flames ever did.

My fingers curl. One move—upload the data, expose her now. Or slip inside, gather more proof, risk being seen. Or walk away. Start over somewhere new.

But I can’t. Not until they know the truth.