Adonis Vivaldi
"What do you mean?" Sandro replied, confusion settling deep into his tone.
"It wasn't a coincidence," I gritted out, my fist clutching the burner phone tightly in my palm.
"Was it her?" he asked, his voice lowering until it was almost a whisper.
"Yes," I replied, stuffing the phone back into my pocket.
Fucking Felicity Vivaldi.
A few hours ago, I had sent a message to my team ordering them to find out what had happened. I also threatened to sue MR Records if they didn't provide me with an explanation.
They didn't need more instructions. They knew what I expected—answers, and soon. Yavannah's electrocution wasn't just a coincidence. Someone wanted to hurt her. And I already had a good idea who it was.
A few hours later, I got the report.
My stepmother. Of course.