God. Every part of that cordiality sounded so manufactured and phony. Deirdre was in no mood to play the game, so she placed the box on a rack next to the door and turned on her heel.

“Miss McKinnon, wait.” Charlene stopped her as she rose from her seat with a smile. “What’s the hurry? Don’t you wanna look around? You know, enjoy the vibe now that you’re here?”

“Not interested,” Deirdre rebutted nonchalantly. She had never been interested in what the affluent upper-class considered haute couture or their glamor. The only reason she had even wanted to be Brendan’s wife was because she had loved him.

Of course, even that had gone away.

“I brought you your necklace,” she stated placidly. “If there’s nothing else you need, excuse me.”

“But there is oneeee thing,” Charlene replied quickly. Her smile deepened. Then, she fished out her phone gracefully and played a video.

The whimpers and cries of a dog being tortured filled the air.

Deirdre stopped dead in her tracks. She could feel