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don’t want to fuck up in any way. “Nope. Since I didn’t fuck Sloane, and he’s the murderer you’re referring to. By the way, if I were you, I’d insert the word alleged when you’re randomly accusing people of heinous crimes. I’d think that’s Detective 101.” I lift a brow. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
    “I’ve had enough of this.” He digs into his pockets and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. “You’re coming to the station where you will have a videotaped interrogation.”
    The moment he reaches for me, the sound of my grandmother’s voice bounces into the room, equaling my own angelic choir.
    “What’s going on in here?”
    There’s nothing saintly about Grandma. Her tone reminds me of an ice pick stabbing away at bits of frozen water. It’s cold and precise, and enough to discolor Detective Jackson’s features.
    She walks closer and squints for effect. Her eyesight is perfect. Besides, it’s easy to see the metal cuffs. “Are those handcuffs?” she asks in feigned confusion. Her square-toed, square-heeled pumps are loud on the floor as she circles from one side of the detective to the other. “For my granddaughter?”
    “You’re Mrs. Sanderson, I presume.” The cop attempts to speak with intimidation, but he adjusts his tie and collar and steps back. “Her grandmother.”
    She smiles tightly. I sniff with superiority. Asshole deserves whatever she does to him. It’s always in everyone’s best interests to stay on Grandma’s good side.
    “You presume correct, Detective Jackson.”
    One of the maids seems to have filled her in on particulars such as his name, saving me the trouble of introductions.
    “Let me explain how things will be from this point on,” she continues. “Georgiana is going to excuse herself and go upstairs to rest. She’ll never worry about the threat of arrest ever again. In her life.” She offers a pointed look, her demeanor adopting that sadistic life-ruiner vibe. “You, on the other hand, should get to your desk and clear it out.” She nods to me. “Go, dear.”
    Detective Jackson draws himself up to his full height. “Are you threatening me?”
    He must be new, not only to the force but the planet. Apparently, he hasn’t heard of Grandma, so he isn’t familiar with how she rules the world from her office and, when needed, her throne in the pits of Hell.
    Detective Jackson’s outrage doesn’t faze Grandma. She smiles, and my wince matches dickhead’s. A moment’s pity for him rises in me, but I shove it aside. Asshole’s finally catching on. I resist the urge to poke my tongue at him and salute him instead.
    “I have no time for threats, detective,” Grandma states briskly. “Now, go, Georgiana.”
    Although I want to stick around and hear what Grandma is about to rein on the detective, I’m not that stupid. It’s enough she interrupted whatever Detective Jackson had in mind.
    She saved me and, in turn, I saved Sloane.

 
    “We’ve been attempting to have a child for four years, but haven’t succeeded.”
    A smile is plastered on my face as I listen to Jane, a nondescript name for a nondescript woman. Her husband, Joe, is equally uninteresting. He’s a trucker and she’s a waitress, the type of people perfect for Georgie’s little bastard.
    Mother steeples her hands beneath her chin. “You understand, if this takes place, you’ll get one lump sum from me on the child’s behalf.”
    We’re in my living room, where Jane has been gaping around. Scoping for valuables?
    “If?” Joe echoes, honing in on that nasty little word.
    I shake my wrist to free my gold bracelets jammed on my arm higher than I like. “Figure of speech. There’s no question in this matter. It’s only settling on when .”
    “This isn’t a done deal.”
    At Mother’s words, a gasp escapes me before I can wrangle it back. “Wh-what do you mean?”
    “Just what I said,” she snaps. “Georgiana—”
    “Is a minor,” I interject coldly.
    Mother slides to the