She came to Madrid with a target, a grudge, and a plan. Two of those survived the first night.

Friedrich Kaltmann has been at the end of every thread Hazel Chase has pulled since Paris. Retired CEO. Gated villa. Private security. The kind of man who doesn't take meetings with bakers from California.

But he never misses a Real Madrid match. So Hazel buys a VIP ticket, a green dress, and sits next to him at the Bernabéu. He talks. He actually talks. Then he dies mid-cocktail and blames her on his way out.

Now there's a poisoned drink, a bombshell newspaper article, and a killer somewhere in the VIP lounge. Hazel has multiple suspects, no proof, and an old friend from home who picked a spectacular week to turn up in Spain.

She should really stop going to nice places. 

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