,
ELENA
After stuffing our stomachs with pizzas and blueberry punch, our little group of three sat on joanna's favourite rug with bloated bellies and drooping eyes.
It was past midnight, and yet we haven't found a way to prove that Devon Sanders planned the ruining of the protest and everything that happened afterwards was only a facade.
We checked for teenage participants in the protest, but the number was more than two hundred and seventy. It was impossible to track down those two boys without their names or any other details.
We had no idea how Devon planned this and who else was involved in his plan other than his PA. Joanna suggested talking to or threatening that woman.
But I declined that idea the very next moment. I had seen how much she loved Devon, and she would never open her mouth against him, even if I indeed bury her under Russian ice.
