Chapter 4

I adjusted my Chanel blazer, smoothing invisible wrinkles as I approached the Botanical Gardens' private dining room. The Hayes Family Charity Luncheon—a quarterly performance where Denver's elite gathered to write checks and massage egos. Today, it would serve a different purpose.

Eleanor Hayes sat at the head table, holding court among her sycophants. Her silver hair was swept into an immaculate chignon, her posture rigid as a steel beam. For twenty years, I'd tried to earn this woman's approval. Now I understood why it had been impossible.

I waited until she excused herself to the ladies' room before making my…