CHAPTER 57: THE WOMAN WHO SOLD THE DEAD
LUCIEN'S POV
I knew something was wrong before she finished her first sentence.
Real trauma stumbles. That was something I had learned not from books but from watching people carry things for years — the way a genuine memory moved through a person when they spoke it out loud, the hitches and the redirections, the moments where the words ran out because the experience outran the language available for it. Real trauma had texture. It caught on things.
Vera Moonfall's testimony was smooth.
