Our usual spot was my rental apartment, which cost 1,200 dollars a month. At 11:00 pm on the dot, a black van pulled up downstairs. Sabrina wore a beige trench coat, her sunglasses sitting low on her nose, and climbed the six flights of stairs to my apartment in her high heels. There was no elevator. Her brows drew together when she crossed the threshold, taking in the mildewed walls and rusted pipes. "It's been half a year, and you're still living in a place like this?" "I've given her my payroll card. Where else can I live?" Without another word, she walked straight to my computer, sat down, and adeptly pulled up the mirrored data from Scarlett's phone. As she looked at the screen, her expression darkened. There were chat histories, bank transfer screenshots, and offshore accounts that Zachary had opened under Scarlett's identity. "These are enough." Sabrina closed my laptop and spun the chair around to face me. Only a single table lamp was on in the living room. Sittin
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