From Ashes, A Queen Rises

ike a back-alley clinic. My father, Horacio Horton, had flown in his own team of doctors.

g, planning. The physical pain was a dull, const

The thumbnail was a close-up of Kenzie Drake' s face, her head re

by her. It panned from her smiling face to Julius, s

a text message popp

message

nyone before. He says making love to you

ot

the way. All those stretch marks.

his finger after Ava was born. He had called them beautifu

All

ief. It was the final, agonizing death of a memory. I didn'

rown a lavish "recovery" party for Kenzie, celebrating her successful transplant

ting the murde

va and disappear into the safety of the Horton

ay of my sterile white room, looking impeccable in a Tom Ford suit. He looked down a

terrible,

n't a

ou've done?" he asked, his voi

," I said, my

her, stressing her out. Her doctors said t

he right thing and donate again when she needs a booster

ood there, the murderer of my child, the man who had left me for

shed. The woman who had loved him, who had built a life with him, w

and smiled faintly.

ised by my easy a

said, my voice s

s eyes. He had expected a fight. He had come

I remembered the night we met, a gallery fire, a panicked crowd. He had pulled me out

rly business rival who had tried to smear my name.

me. He had

love, my body, my work, my daughter's safety,

nzie. Let's call it even." I let the words hang in the air. "A

didn't understand the finality in my vo

his composure. "I'm glad y

ssage from my father's head

instantly. "Kenzie. Yes, honey, I'm jus

ithout another word.

ched

me back to the operating room. The lights were jus

my eyes. This wasn't an aton

last piece of myself I would ever gi

ld owe me