The silence after Darren's words wasn't just thick; it was absolute, suffocating, like the air had been sucked out of Meeting Room C.
Lilian Greaves remained perfectly still, but the transformation was terrifying. Her storm-grey eyes widened with a shock so profound it bordered on horror.
The blood drained completely from her striking, angular face, leaving it a stark, ashen mask beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. The meticulously constructed wall of professional detachment has finally cracked, even for a little bit.
How dare he? How dare he mention her father. Her deepest, most private wound, the wound that defined her relentless pursuit. This rigid fucker just laid it bare in this sterile interrogation room.
The unspoken question screamed in her mind: 'How? How could he possibly know?'
