I remembered the way Beatrice’s associate had looked at Chloe during the trial prep, like she was a loose thread waiting to be pulled.

“Darrow’s lawyers claim he was in meetings all evening,” Holt said. “We’re verifying his alibi now.”

“This is a cover-up,” I said, my voice rising. “Chloe was going to speak to the prosecutors tomorrow.”

“I need both of you to stay at the estate,” Holt instructed. “Do not go looking for her. Let my team do their job.”

The line clicked, and the dial tone filled the quiet room.

Liam reached over and hung up the phone.

He looked at me, his gray eyes dark with worry.

“She’s right, Audrey,” he said softly. “It’s dangerous out there tonight.”

“I can’t just sit here,” I said, pulling my hand away from his. “Chloe knows what happened ten years ago. She was there.”

I walked over to the window, looking out into the dark, wet gardens of the estate.

My reflection in the glass showed the faint, silver line of the scar running down my neck.

It was a physical reminder of the night the charity hall burned.