When it came to breaking down someone's psychological defenses, Nancy Grover was undoubtedly a master.
After all these years, it was the first time Maeve Vance had seen any of Charlie Wilson's belongings.
The dried blood still seemed to cling to the surface.
Nancy's light, cheerful laughter echoed through the phone.
"Let me guess how you're feeling right now. Is it more heartbreak, or more anger?"
"By the way, what was your relationship with that man whose heart I took?"
"Oh my, was he the love of your life?"
Nancy giggled, the sound dripping with thick provocation.
"You have a good eye for men. He had a very likable face, but he just didn't know what was good for him."
"If he had just been a bit more sensible back then, he wouldn't have died such a gruesome death."
"I'm suddenly a little curious. Does Andres know he existed?"
Maeve didn't want to listen to her nonsense anymore.
"Where are you? Let's meet."
She had expected Nancy to act like a coward and hide, just like before.
To her surprise, Nancy actually provided a detailed address over the phone.
"I'll only wait fifteen minutes. After that, I have to go to The Grand Horizon Hotel for Andres's birthday party."
Maeve didn't want to hear another word.
As if guessing she was about to hang up, Nancy's crisp, smug laughter rang out from the other end.
"It's a rare opportunity for us to share the same man, Maeve. Don't you want to hear about my past with Andres?"
Maeve walked briskly to the parking lot and found her private car.
She slid into the driver's seat, slammed the gas pedal, and sped off.
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