Chapter 4

That unpleasant encounter was all the push I needed. The next morning, I called the most exclusive and expensive private investigator in Ostville.

"I need you to dig up everything on two people. Cynthia Evans and Blaire Shaw. I want to know where they go, who they see, what they say. Every minute of every day. Nothing gets missed," I said, my voice cold and unwavering.

Especially Blaire.

How could a seven-year-old harbor so much malice?

In my previous life, I'd written it off as childish jealousy, a mirror of her mother's resentments.

But this time, when I saw the…