Diane's POV
The hope I'd allowed myself to feel as Joan and I finished our conversation wasn't enough to quiet my racing mind that night. My hand rested on my heavy belly as I stared at the ceiling, the twins occasionally shifting beneath my palm. Tomorrow's meeting with Guerrero loomed large in my thoughts—a pivotal moment that could change everything.
I must have finally drifted off, because the next thing I knew, early morning light was filtering through the curtains. I blinked awake to the sound of quiet movement downstairs. My mother was already up, likely making tea and preparing for the day ahead.
