Chapter 2 - THE VAULT OF SECRETS
The diner smelled of stale coffee and industrial bleach, a sharp contrast to the pure adrenaline pumping through my veins. Attorney Morales sat across the booth, sliding a sleek black laptop toward me. He hadn't judged me when I called from prison two years ago, and he didn't judge me now. "I kept it all safe, Isabela," he said quietly. "The gas station security footage from across the street, the bar tabs, and the voicemail." We played the audio. My mother’s hysterical voice filled the quiet booth, begging me to take the fall for her golden boy. The trap was officially set.
