“The public knows better than to rush to conclusions,” Elsa countered.
“Maybe you should take a look at what they’re saying online.” Constance tapped on her phone. “They’re calling Miss Stormy—”
The rest of her sentence died in her throat as she stared at the screen. I could see her shock and dismay immediately, sharp and bitter.
Elsa smiled, and I caught the sense of her satisfaction. “What are they calling her?”
She didn’t need to check her phone to know the tide of public opinion had turned. Clem had worked fast—faster than I’d expected.
Other than the unknown photographer, plenty of pub customers had taken pictures and videos of the whole incident. Once posted online, they painted a much clearer picture of what actually happened.
Instead of a woman with violent tend
