The call was connected. Brendan gnashed his teeth as he said, “Where the hell are you, McKinnon?!”

Deirdre said nothing. At the end of her silence came a click—and the call was hung up by her.

She stuck the phone back into her pocket, feeling disappointed that it was not Sterling. How was he? Was he okay? She had no idea how he was.

The only silver lining right now was how well-known the Fuller family really was in the city. Even a run-of-the-mill cab driver knew exactly where to take Deirdre when she asked him to take her to their house.

She paid the driver, who told her where the doorbell was, and pressed it. There was a series of quick footsteps, accompanied by a voice thick with annoyance. “Which nutcase is it this time? It’s like they all think they can just ring whenever they feel like it!”

“I’m sorry,” Deirdre huffed, feeling anxious. “I… I just wanted… to know where Sterling is? He’s not picking up his phone—”

“Sterling?” The maid scoffed. It was palpable just how little