Chapter 37

Maeve's POV

She lounged on the sagging couch, a half-empty bottle dangling from her fingers, her eyes glassy but sharp with malice.

I swallowed hard, forcing steel into my voice.

“I’m not here for a reunion, Sybil. What’s this about? Why the nonstop calls?”

She cackled, a wet, ugly sound. “Oh, listen to you—acting all high and mighty now that you’ve run off to Florida. Think you’re better than