The subterranean holding cells of the Manhattan Criminal Court smelled of damp concrete, disinfectant, and industrial floor wax. Chloe Vance sat on a rusted metal bench, her cream silk blouse ripped at the seam, her blonde hair matted and disheveled, and her heavy mascara smeared across her tear-stained cheeks. For thirty-six hours, she had been held alongside street prostitutes, shoplifters, and drug couriers, subjected to the harsh realities of the…
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