I froze. The words hung in the air like smoke from a discharged weapon. Dropped the charges? What the hell were they talking about?
I rushed to the attorney's office as fast as my legs could carry me, my heels striking the rain-slicked pavement like desperate heartbeats. But by the time I arrived, breathless and wild-eyed, the file—my mother's case file—had already been fed through the shredder. Confetti. That's all that remained of justice. Ribbons of white paper scattered across the mahogany desk like funeral flowers.
Everything blurred. I collapsed to my knees on the Persian rug, my fingers clawing at the consigliere's sleeve, my voice fracturing into something raw and unrecognizable.
"You promised. You swore on your honor you'd help me get justice for my mother!"
The lawyer—a man who'd built his reputation on representing the Families—looked away, unable to meet my eyes. He exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with resignation.