Alex, sensing her shift, stepped forward. "Whoever is doing this wants Charlotte afraid. They want her doubting herself."
"Then they don’t know Mom very well," Ruth muttered.
Alex let out a short laugh. "No, they don’t."
But she could see it happening. Even if she wasn’t doubting herself. She was dreading what this meant for them.
Molly’s voice was soft but firm. "Mom, what do you want us to do?"
Charlotte looked at them. Her daughters. The men who loved them. The man who loved her. God, Alex. Her family. Her world. She had spent thirty years protecting her girls from this monster.
She squared her shoulders. "You’re going to let me handle this."
Olivia snorted. "Yeah, that’s not happening."
Charlotte sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Liv?—"
"No," Olivia said, standing. "You don’t get to do this alone. Not this time."
Molly nodded. "We need to know what we’re dealing with."
Sophie exhaled. "We need a plan. We are adults. We can help."
Ruth, always practical, crossed her arms. "We need to know who we’re up against."
Isobel sat quietly, her hands in her lap. “Where is Ward incarcerated?”
“South Dakota State Penitentiary,” Ethan answered.
Isobel reached for Brad’s hand. “I want to interview him.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Under no circumstances are you going near that man.”
Brad appeared to simmer. “Isobel, we will discuss this at home.”
Isobel met his gaze. “Fine.”
Charlotte let out a slow breath. She looked at Alex.
His gaze was steady. "Let us help," he murmured.
She hesitated, then exhaled. "Fine." Her tone was the same as Isobel’s.
Alex looked up at the ceiling, closed and opened his eyes, and let out a breath.
She looked back at her daughters. "I’m not putting you in danger."
Olivia cocked her head. "We already are, but we’re Everharts, Mom."
"Danger has never stopped us before," Isobel added.
Charlotte swallowed, pressing her lips together. She hated this.
Alex followedCharlotte into the pet-friendly Hotel Waverly Junction fifteen minutes after they picked up Bailey, his hand hovering just at the small of her back. She hadn’t argued when he told her he was paying for the night, hadn’t fought him on it the way she normally would have. That alone told him how much this had shaken her.
She was afraid—and Charlotte Everhart didn’t do fear. He hated that more than anything.
He wanted to take her to his place, but it was still being repaired. The damage was greater than first reported. Each of the girls offered space, which Charlotte adamantly refused.
