Page 71 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

Sutton’s stomach dropped when the email notification slid across her screen. The sender alone made her pulse jump, heat prickling along her scalp.

From: Phelps Investigations

Subject: Maddox Inquiry

She angled her phone closer, shoulders rounding instinctively, suddenly aware of every footstep in the hall, every shadow that passed the open doorway. Her fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating, because opening it meant answers—and answers had weight. If someone glanced over her shoulder, if Irma wandered by with her laser focus and sharper memory, the carefully stacked lies of Sutton’s life could tip like a Jenga board without a center piece.

She swallowed, breath shallow, heart knocking hard enough to feel traitorous, then clicked anyway—because fear had never stopped her before, and not knowing felt worse than whatever waited inside.

She quickly scanned the missive, and a hand went to her chest. It was exactly what she’d been afraid of.

I found a document that shows last year the Callahan family filed a lawsuit against Virgil Maddox over water rights on adjacent land.

She zoomed in, heart picking up speed as she read what her PI had found.

Apparently, the complaint was aggressive, the kind meant to drag someone through the dirt. It never reached trial. The likely conclusion is that the Callahans must have secured water rights through mediation.

Translation: they leveraged power, money, and lawyers until they got what they wanted.

Sutton set her phone against her chest and leaned against the counter, pulse loud in her ears.

If that’s how they handled water rights, what would they do with a child? With his child? With a secret she’d been sitting on for four years?

The Callahans had influence, legacy money, and a family name that made county officials blink twice. Sutton had maxed out credit cards, college debt, a daughter, and a truth she had not spoken aloud.

“Would they sue for custody?” she whispered to herself, breath shaking. “God, could they take her from me?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. She had fought for everything in her life. But something told her she could not fight a dynasty in a courtroom and come out unscathed.

“Hey.”

Sutton jerked at the voice. Her phone clattered to the floor.

Irma stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, hip cocked, and that mouth tipped in a knowing little smirk that made Sutton’s nerves spike. Irma never appeared without an agenda.

“So,” the older woman said lightly, “I saw you went with Dr. Colter to get those puppies.”

Sutton picked up her phone and pocketed it, then reached for another file, busying herself a second.

“I was working,” she said, keeping her voice even. “It was an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation.”

“Yet he didn’t call Dr. Lee.”

“Dr. Lee wasn’t here.”

Irma hummed, unconvinced. “Funny. He’s gone on his own before.”

Sutton tossed the file on the desk, a little harder than necessary. Her nerves were already stretched thin, buzzing from the email—the lawsuit, the reminder that the Callahans played in deeper waters than she did. Add to that the kiss she was pretending hadn’t happened, all that heat and impulse wrapped up in a decision she had not planned to make, and it felt like too much.

She forced her hands to steady, and her face to neutral. If Irma noticed the tension crackling under her skin, she didn’t show it. Sutton told herself it was just work-stress. Not fear. Not guilt. And definitely not the lingering awareness of how badly that kiss had knocked her off balance.

“He needed help,” she explained. “I was there. Work happened. End of story.”

Irma’s expression softened, the teasing fading.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” she said. “I’m warning you.”

Sutton finally looked at her. “About what?”