Amelia's POV

The coffee shop buzz fades as Jennifer slides into the seat across from me. Perfect timing—she's always been so eager to please.

"Thank you for meeting me," I say, reaching across to touch her hand. "I know you're busy."

Jennifer practically glows. "Of course, Amelia. What's wrong?"

I let concern crease my features. "I'm worried about Moira."

Her expression shifts—curiosity mixed with something darker. ...