Effie Bagnold could sense Grace McCloud’s resistance to her presence, but she just smiled, saying nothing.
Grace sat down unwillingly, perching on the edge of her chair as if ready to flee at any moment.
Just then, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Annabel McCloud and Fenton arrived almost at the same time, followed closely by Vinson Elliott, Randell Hoffman, and a few others.
Vinson glanced at Annabel and Fenton with mock accusation. “You two are so weird. I was calling after you the whole way and the more I called, the faster you walked. What’s up with that?”
Annabel whipped around and shot Vinson a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Shut it.”
Vinson shrank back a little. Annabel was older than him, and she could be fierce and overbearing when she wanted to be—he’d learned long ago that he couldn’t win a fight with her, so it was best to retreat when necessary.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t mutter under his breath. “Fine, I won’t mention how you and Fenton got out of the same cab together.”
Annabel looked at him, exasperated. If looks could kill, Vinson would have died a thousand deaths right there.
Grace’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Annabel and Fenton. “Wait a second, Vinson. Did you just say my sister and—oh, sorry, ex-brother-in-law—got out of a cab together?”
Fenton met Grace’s look, completely unbothered. “Annabel’s car got in a little accident. Some guy’s car hit hers.”
“You were in a car accident? Are you okay?” Lyman Etheridge turned to Annabel with concern.
Annabel waved him off. “It’s fine. Just a scratch. The other guy insisted on calling the police, so I had to let my assistant deal with it.”
When she said “the other guy,” she shot Fenton a glare that could have bored holes right through him.
Vinson’s eyes went wide. He slapped a hand over his mouth, as if he’d just discovered some scandalous secret. “Wait, you two…”
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