PART 2: The car stopped in front of Lily Carter’s apartment building, and she was already reaching for the door handle when Noah Priestley spoke again.

“Wait.”

Lily froze, one hand on the handle, half expecting him to say something arrogant, something rich, something that would turn the whole strange ride into another reminder that people like him only visited neighborhoods like hers by accident. Instead, he looked out the tinted window at the broken front light above her building entrance and the man sleeping under cardboard near the bus stop. His expression changed in a way she could not read.

“This is where you live?” he asked.

Lily’s shoulders stiffened. “Yes.”

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