บททั้งหมดของ In the Wake of Truth: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

(Julia’s POV)The door clicked shut behind me.I didn’t move.For a second, I was convinced I’d entered the wrong room.But no—there he was.Luke Linderman.Slouched in the chair like it was a throne, fingers drumming in a rhythm too deliberate to be casual. One arm lazily draped over the backrest, the other resting near a phone that wasn’t his. Or maybe it was. From what little my memory could piece together, he was the kind of man who’d steal a SIM card—not out of necessity, but just to prove he could.I blinked once. Twice. The air in the room felt colder now, dense with some unspeakable tension.“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice sharper than I expected. “Where’s Dr. Stephanie?”He tilted his head, almost amused. “Well, good morning to you too, Julia.”I didn’t sit. “Answer the question.”He smiled—wide, unapologetic, and a little too white. “Stephanie’s fine. I just needed to borrow her appointment. You know, free healthcare’s hard to come by these days.”I didn’t flinch,

(Dr. Stephanie's POV)I’d sent Julia the location three times.Twice last night, once this morning—each one worded slightly differently, but all carrying the same message:St. Mulumba Specialist Hospital. Jonas & 12th Avenue. Ask for me at the front desk when you arrive.Somewhere deep down, I knew it was overkill. But overkill felt safer than miscommunication, especially now. Especially with Julia.She’d been slipping. Not just in memory, but in confidence, awareness, and balance. She spoke like someone trying to walk backward through fog. You could hear the strain in her voice, the uncertainty. It was more than worry—and a bit more like disorientation. And not the kind triggered by stress—the kind born of the wrong drugs, or the right ones used recklessly. inappropriately.Chemicals that someone put there intentionally.I tucked my phone back into the breast pocket of my coat and pulled on a pair of latex gloves, the snap echoing faintly as I entered the diagnostics lab. My shift ha

(Jane’s POV)The alarm stirred me before the sound ever fully reached my ears—3:30 PM, sharp, just as I’d set it. I’d given myself a buffer before four, knowing I’d need time to recalibrate. Not just wake up, but come back to myself.The hotel room was filled with a dull gray light, filtered through thick curtains that hadn’t moved all day. The air felt still and heavy. I reached across the nightstand for my phone, silencing the alarm with a quick swipe. I’d only slept for about an hour and a half. Just enough to function. Just enough to feel like I’d been somewhere deep and hard to explain.I didn’t move right away. I stared at the ceiling, eyes following the small cracks in the plaster. A dull ache had settled behind my eyes—maybe from stress, lack of water, or thinking too much for too long. My throat felt dry. I sat up and reached for the glass of water I’d left on the desk. It was lukewarm now, but it would do. I drank it all, the coolness settling behind my chest.After a moment

(Jane’s POV)The second day arrived muted, less light, fewer words, and the kind of calm that hinted that everything ahead would matter.No speeches. No projectors. Just a windowless conference room four floors below the adorned Energy Hall, where the overhead lights were too white. This was the kind of room where real finalities happened—stripped of optics, stripped of distractions.Only select delegates were allowed inside. No aides. No interns. Just names with influence behind them, seated around a wide, well-polished wooden table that gleamed like it had witnessed a lot.Barry was already seated when I entered—far end, left side of the table, legs crossed, posture loose, as if rooms like this had always belonged to him. He gave me a nod—surprisingly respectful—then returned his gaze to the glass of still water in front of him.Dorris stood outside with the other junior aides. She didn’t speak. She understood the rules of engagement.Still, when she handed me the updated briefing p

(Jane’s POV)I woke before the sun—no dreams, no alarm, just the kind of alertness that follows when something quietly comes undone.Chicago looked washed out through the hotel window, clouds hanging low over a skyline that never stopped moving, only shifting shape.I drank a glass of cold water and stood still, watching the city stir. A truck rolled down the avenue. One streetlight flickered, reluctant to give up. Everything moved slowly, deliberately, unbothered by attention. And that, somehow, felt honest.Last night had been a kind of theatre. Polished applause, veiled dismissal, the subtle cutting of ties disguised as progress. Barry had handled it well. He knew how to win while making it look like a group decision. That was his gift.But I stayed in the room. I didn’t fold. I didn’t leave early or offer a nervous smile. And that counted for more than the room would admit.A knock. Then Dorris entered, holding out a paper cup.“Double shot,” she said. “No room for cream. Thought