Dawson hesitated, his eyes darting between my face and the envelope that now sat ominously among his eggs and toast. The room fell silent, the joyful clatter of the brunch coming to an abrupt halt. You could almost hear the collective inhalation of breath as every eye turned to him.
With a shaky hand, he picked up the envelope, the weight of the evidence inside felt by everyone in the room. Tamson’s eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into her smug expression. “What is this?” she demanded, her voice tinged with nervousness despite her attempt to maintain authority.
“Just open it, Dawson,” I repeated, my voice steady and unwavering. “Everyone deserves to know the truth.”
