I looked at myself in the mirror.

The woman staring back did not look terrified anymore.

Her shoulders were straight, her chin was high, and her eyes were clear.

I walked down the stairs to the main foyer where Vincent was waiting.

He wore a dark charcoal suit, his coat folded over his arm.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

The driver held the door of the black sedan open for us.

We slid into the leather seats, the door closing with a soft, solid thud.

As the car drove through the newly cleared gates of the estate, I did not look back.

I kept my eyes on the road ahead, watching the city skyline rise in the distance.

We arrived at the federal building an hour later.

The building was a massive concrete structure, its halls filled with the busy hum of lawyers and agents.

We were led to a quiet conference room on the fifth floor.

Agent Harris was waiting for us, a thick manila folder resting on the table.

“Miss Vance,” Harris said, gesturing to a chair.

“Thank you for coming.”