Her Stolen Art, His Broken Promises

as a mask of concern. He brought flowers, expensive wh

id. He pretended he was just

beside my bed, running a hand through his perfect hair. "No. That can't be right. I

was too late. I'd heard

plan was just to scare me and steal my portfolio. The permanent, lif

y began to burn

ered to himself, more than to

ith Chloe in the hallway again. T

into the phone. "Permanent damage? A hysterec

k, her voice shrill. "She fought

a victim with life-changing injuries. This isn't some si

was for himself. For his rep

mposed again. He took my hand. His touc

dropping to an intimate, conspiratorial tone. "For your own privacy. We'

t to protect himself. He was already spinning the

atrical sound of regre

deep into my eyes. "I promise. I will find a w

d. I saw the flicker of what he probably thought was genuine remorse in his eyes. M

he face of a logistical problem. His primary goal was damage control. A

I let him believe I was a broken, grieving

control. It would make his dow