"What did you just say, Naya?" Avery's voice shot up an octave, laced with disbelief and a rising sense of dread. Her hand trembled slightly as she clutched her phone tighter to her ear, the color draining from her face.
She didn't wait for a reply. Her feet moved on instinct as she stormed toward the living room, heart thundering in her chest. "I'm turning on the news," she said sharply, barely able to finish the sentence as panic rose like a tidal wave.
"Ma'am, don't worry," Naya's voice came crackling through the speaker, sounding both breathless and overwhelmed. "I'm trying to find the source—we know this is all fake bullshit. These elevations can't harm us if we respond quickly. Our legal and PR teams are on it."
But Avery wasn't listening anymore. Her eyes scanned the cluttered coffee table where the TV remote was usually kept. It wasn't there.
"Where is it?!" she muttered in frustration, tossing aside a few magazines, knocking over a decorative tray of scented candles.
