Twenty-Four Hours to Live Again

ridal salon was thick with the

ting for a custom gown by a designer who

preening in front of a three-w

nt smile on his face as she twirle

hed, her hand fluttering to her chest. "I've

ad the grace to look mo

re just... Ol

?" My voice was

note he always used when Olivia was involved. "The doctors... they don't

orry, Miss Vanderbilt. I didn't mean a

ger. "Have that dress removed. And then, either have it professionally steri

pringing to her eyes.

need to be c

. "You're an exper

image of Olivia in my d

office in the Financial Distr

parking garage w

hed itself from behi

vy cloth, smelling of chemic

kne

a moving van, my head thr

face in the dim light, but the expensive

n's

t leg as something hard – a go

und swallowed by th

d to a halt. The

pavement of a deserted street in what looked

leaving me in the

on fire. My

ime, I was alive. And I