Riele stood by the kitchen sink, staring blankly out the window at the swaying trees in the garden. She had replayed the scene with Jane more times than she cared to admit—her eyes, her voice, that almost mocking smile when she asked Riele to call off the wedding. There had been no clear reason, no explanation, just a demand wrapped in veiled hostility. It left a sour taste in Riele's mouth and a heaviness in her chest that wouldn’t go away.

She wiped her hands and picked up her phone. Her ...