Prisoner No More, Queen Of The Game

ce rolled through the visiting room, cutting through the stale air like a blade. Aimee's pen faltere

ing beyond cold steel bars - Laurence Bennett, her

suit, his polished shoes catching the light, the designer watch on his wrist flashing with an almost clinical c

it ri

In her last life, the Bennetts had lured her home with the same gentle words, only to shove he

en bothered to show up. Instead, Rylie's hired thugs had been w

ad erased every trace of her existenc

chest for so long that it h

orld for years before uncovering the cruel tr

e would bring prosperity, while Aimee herself was labeled a curse. They'd cast her aside like

d her rebirth, pulling her back to t

ly forged an alliance with Andreas Reid, a calculat

she set the pen down with unsettling composure, her voice low and steady. "And what did I get in return? I served t

linting in his eyes. "Things weren't simple then. Rylie wasn

She tilted her head, meeting his furious stare without blinking. "Laurence, tell me - has the entire Ben

through the room. He shot to his feet, veins tightening along his temple. "Aimee, have yo

o a bitter smile as a dry, humor

nd raised on scraps of kindness in some forgotten

few possessions - a frayed canvas bag with seams

like a whip behind her. "If you walk away fro

r her shoulder, Aimee answered,

e, making her squint against its brightness. Stepping back into freedom af

s polished surface gleaming beneath the sun. The tinted window slid d

aid. Stepping out with practiced precision, the drive

into the plush leather seat wi

sting out of the prison gates. His face froze in disbelief as