The two of us sat cross-legged on my hotel bed, eating warm toast with raspberry jam while an entertaining reality television show played silently in the background.

“This is exceptionally good jam,” Chloe remarked, taking a bite.

“It really is,” I agreed.

“Honestly, it is almost suspiciously good,” she teased gently.

I let out a genuine laugh.

At nine o’clock sharp, my phone rang on the nightstand.

It was Samantha Cross calling.

“I have something quite unusual to report to you, Claire,” she said as soon as I answered.