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. Now, five years later, Ivy Richardson stood at he
gravestone. "Beloved daughter and fiancée," the inscrip
bling, he pointed, gasping, "Oh my God... you look
red, shaking: "Ivy? Where have you been?" She crushed his che
ot Resuscitate" order for his mistress, Ainsl
expired when you signed the DNR... and Ainsley was watching, wasn'
pte
chards
k trench coat turned up against the biting Los Angeles wind. The heavy fabric felt li
g up a swirl of dead, brown leaves around my expensive leather boots. The barren
ers meticulously carved into the stone: *H
ting shackles that had bound me
d at the corner of my lips.
found love five years ago when I was bleeding out on a sterile hospital bed
pitch-black leather gloves, the suppl
iding the jagged, ugly scars carved deep into my wrists-the
ertips lightly traced the freezing surface of the he
ng that the weak, pathetic girl burie
ower engine suddenly shattered the
er in stained, heavy-duty work clothes was driving a sma
loudly, and grabbed a dirty metal shovel from the bac
a second on the black-and-white porcelain portrait embedded in the marble. The pho
d his head and look
is grip. It hit the crushed gravel pabackward, his boots slipping on the loose stones. He pointed a trembling, dirt-stained
l cords seizing up in pure terror.
a fraction of an inch, my eyes complete
errifying financial dynasty had taught me how to keep my
to my black Hermès Birkin bag and pulled o
le of the elite: cash could buy silence, and si
rrified man. My posture was rigid
said. My voice was a flat, icy mono
y gloved fingers. He didn't say a word. He just turned and scrambled back to his utility
ing out on the gravel before he sped off, disappe
ffocating sil
ad absolutely zero lingering attachment to this patch of dirt or the fake grie
ng sound of footsteps echoed f
nd panicked. They stopped exactl
ack
ass made me pause. It was a bouquet of cheap, plas
o buy real flowers for the w
sceral, uncontrollable trauma response. My body recognized
heard hi
that had once forced me to shrink myself down
breathing. He sounded like a ma
trembling violently, cracking under the
forcing the icy air deep into my lungs to crush
m. I was the judge, the j
ing onto the man standing before me
Where the hell have you be
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