But I refused to cry in front of these people. They didn’t deserve my tears.
Camille was already there waiting. She looked like a whole million dollars—designer blazer, silk blouse, with a Celine bag. Her hair was done, makeup on point. She looked wildly out of place in this dusty-ass room.
“Zainab.” She stood up when she saw me, concern all over her face. “How you holding up?”
“I’m alive.”
The CO finally took off the cuffs and pushed me toward the chair. “Thirty minutes.”
Then he bounced. Thank God.
I sat down across from Camille, rubbing my sore wrists.
“They treating you okay?” she asked, watching my hands.
“They treating me like what I am to them. An inmate.”
Her jaw got tight. “I’ll make some calls. Pregnant inmates are supposed to have certain accommodations. This is ridiculous.”
“I appreciate you.”
She pulled out her legal pad, switching into lawyer mode. “Okay. Let’s go over that night again. I need every detail you can remember.”
I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes.
That night. The night that changed everything.
“I came home late that night,” I started, keeping my voice steady. “I’d been working at a club. When I got to the apartment, the door was open. And my sister was on the floor. Shot.”
I walked her through the version I’d been telling for years. The version that kept me safe. That I came home, found her, panicked. That I didn’t see who did it. That I had no idea why anyone would want to hurt her.
Everything except the truth.
That I’d witnessed a murder hours before. That the killer had tracked me down. That he’d come to my apartment looking for ME, but found Zahara instead. Shot her in the face because we were identical twins and he didn’t know the difference.
And I knew exactly who he was.
His face had been living rent-free in my nightmares for five years. Square jaw. Dead eyes. The way he’d looked at me that night at the club before he pulled the trigger on that other man. Like killing was nothing to him. Like it was just another Tuesday.
Thad.
I couldn’t tell Camille about him. Not yet. I had no evidence. No proof. Just my word against a Banks. And if I breathed his name to Prime? Thad would be dead before I could blink.
And nah. That wasn’t how this was gonna go.
I wanted to be the one to end him. I wanted to look into his eyes and make sure he knew exactly why he was dying. I wanted him to see Zahara’s face—MY face—right before he took his last breath.
That moment belonged to me. I’d earned it.
“Zainab?” Camille’s voice snapped me back. “You okay? You zoned out for a second.”
“Yeah. Sorry. Just… reliving it.”
She nodded, her eyes soft. “I know this is hard. But we’re gonna get through this together.”
“What’s the situation with bail?”
“Filing the motion this week. You’ve got a lot in your favor—no prior record, seven months pregnant, and frankly, the evidence against you is weak. The DA is pushing hard, but I’ve handled worse.” She leaned forward. “The case they’re trying to build doesn’t hold up. You didn’t kill your sister, Zainab. And I’m going to prove it.”
