Isabella POV
I spent the entire night reviewing Elena's medical documents with the kind of focused intensity that came from knowing my sanity was being questioned by people I trusted. Spread across our dining room table were copies of psychiatric evaluations, genetic testing reports, and medical histories that supposedly proved I was genetically predisposed to mental illness.
The problem was, the more carefully I studied them, the more inconsistencies I found.
"Damien," I called from my position surrounded by papers and laptop screens, "look at this genetic testing report Elena presented to the board."
He appeared from the kitchen carrying two cups of coffee and the determined expression of someone who'd been awake as long as I had. "What did you find?"
