The fire crackled softly in the living room as the group settled back into their tense rhythm. Tara Donovan sat in the armchair closest to the hearth, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. The usual sharpness in her gaze was dulled, replaced by something Claire couldn’t quite place—regret? Fear? Guilt?
“Tara,” Claire began, her voice steady but laced with tension. “We need to talk.”
Tara met her gaze, her expression unreadable. “I figured as much.”
The room fell silent as Claire leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “Tell me, how did you find me? How did you even know I was involved in this?”
“I didn’t, at first,” Tara admitted, her fingers tightening around the mug. “When I left all those years ago, I had no intention of coming back. But Robert… he changes people.
