Elena's pov
I was sleeping when a guard appeared before me that evening.
"You've got one hour," she said. "Don't try anything stupid."
"I won't."
She handed it through the slot, then left me alone.
I sat on my mattress, opened the tablet, and found the livestream.
It was already starting.
The camera showed a park in Brooklyn. Sunset paints the sky orange and pink. Hundreds of people gathered, holding candles.
At the front, a podium. And standing there, Margaret Torres.
"Thank you all for coming," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "We're here tonight to honor Isabella Castellano. A woman who gave her life trying to expose corruption. A mother who loved her daughter more than anything. A hero who deserves to be remembered."
The crowd was silent, listening.
