“Even a cursed connection is still a connection, isn’t it?” Brittany’s big eyes pinned me down, icy and sharp.

I met her stare calmly, studying her brows and eyes. Without meaning to, I searched her face for traces of my father—something I didn’t want to admit, but Brittany’s eyes really did resemble his.

“Ms. Jackson, maybe Maverick fed you a lot of wrong information these past two years.” I let out a light laugh, my tone half-amused. “I’m ...