I’ll make the report.

Anne gave her a sharp, incredulous look, barely suppressing a bitter laugh. "Since when do you care about me? You have always hated me, and don't worry—I feel the same way about you. So do us both a favor: stay out of my face."

Lorie's mouth twitched. She gripped the edge of the file in her hands tightly, seething. "How can you say that?" she said, trying to sound hurt. "No matter what happened between us, we are still family. We grew up together. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Anne let out a dry, humorless chuckle. Her gaze turned icy. "Oh, I remember all of it. Every insult, every lie, every time you pushed me down just to feel superior. I haven't forgotten a thing."

The intensity in Anne's eyes cut straight through Lorie's fake sympathy, making her stiffen. That fiery glare—cold, unrelenting—sent a ripple of unease through her. For the first time, Lorie couldn't think of a single word to throw back.