The room was utterly silent after Mr. Sterling left. But this wasn't a peaceful quiet. It was a heavy, suffocating silence, like the final moment before a tomb is sealed forever. The air itself felt dead. The only thing left behind was the faint, expensive smell of his cologne. In their shabby, worn-out motel room, that scent was like a poison. It was a constant, mocking reminder of the powerful man who had just walked in, turned their lives upside down, and walked out again without a hair out of place.
Evelyn slowly finished counting the money they had left. Her movements were tired and hopeless, as if she already knew the answer. "Four hundred and twelve dollars," she said, her voice empty of all emotion. "This is everything we have left in the world."
