Cassie's expression dulled as the memory surfaced, her gaze drifting somewhere past the living room walls.
"Rose mentioned it by accident," she said slowly, her voice measured. "Later that night, I received a call from an anonymous number. She introduced herself as the whistleblower."
Franklin's brows furrowed. "And you didn't track her?"
"She wasn't important to me at the time," Cassie replied. Then she hesitated, finally lifting her eyes to his. A faint warmth crept up her cheeks. "Why do you ask?"
Instead of answering immediately, Franklin glanced toward Tristan. The boy sat quietly on the couch, completely absorbed in a book, his legs tucked beneath him.
"Tris," Franklin said gently, "can you read in my study for a while?"
Tristan looked up, eyes bright. "Sure, Dad.
