CHAPTER EIGHT
The police were notified of everything that happened; that my dad’s security team found evidence of fireworks-gone-wrong. When Neil got the news, he was sitting across from me at the breakfast table and immediately looked at me, then Corrigan, and Bryce. His eyes went flat. His lips pressed together in a firm line, and he let out a loud disapproving sigh before murmuring into the phone, “Fine. Yes, canvass any neighbors to see if they could’ve gotten onto the property.” His gaze came back to me and stayed. “But I have a feeling you won’t find much.”
Bryce was at the coffee machine. Corrigan had just sat down with toast on his plate, and I had lifted my own coffee cup to my lips for a sip. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Denton came into the room then and halted abrup
