Emma's feet planted firmly on the cold marble floor. Her eyes, sharp and unwavering, locked onto her father's face as she raised her voice with a calm, defiant strength that silenced the entire room.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said.
There was no tremble in her voice. No trace of the scared girl they all thought they knew. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes glimmered—not with tears, but with fire. "I didn't commit any crime. And I will not be dragged to any house or made to beg to anyone for something I didn't do. I'm tired of letting all of you speak for me."
The detective, standing just to the side, glanced at Emma's father, waiting for the nod. And when he got it, he took a step forward, reaching toward Emma's arm.
But before his hand could touch her, a cold voice cut through the room like a blade.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Everyone turned.
