83: Michaela's Crime.
Cleo sat with her legs tightly pressed together, her thin lips pursed in anxious silence. One hand clutched Keiran's, while the other rested nervously on her lap. Her heart pounded in her chest as she raised her eyes to meet her parents' stern gazes. Her father, seated rigidly on the opposite couch, glared at her with a ferocity that made her shrink into her seat. Her mother's face was softened with worry, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Cloe, her twin, sat nearby, releasing long, weary sighs.
"What would have happened if Keiran hadn't found you?" Their mother's voice, though tinged with worry, had a calming undertone as she placed a hand on their father's knee, trying to soothe his seething anger. It was the sixth time he had asked that question in the span of half an hour.