Prisoner No More, Queen Of The Game
pulent mansion spanning nearly a thousand square meters. In the manicured garden, a man in a perfectly cut black s
here," the driver said in
st, Aimee got a clear look at the man who dominated the business world like a storm - early thirties, a chiseled jawline, and pierci
m, low and velvety, as if plucked from the string
had been someone he expected to look formidable. Instead, she appeared heartbreakingly delicate, her frame slender to the point of
e, Mr. Reid?" Aimee lifted her chi
smile curved acro
from the cold screen of video conferences. No matter how b
moothly, steering the conversation away as he
es is the most exclusive neighborhood in the city. The garden
iet smile. "Then it's yours. Consider i
life, Aimee hadn't expected
tes carried a market value of no
breath, the corners of her lips tightening. "Aren't you even th
through the air. "The fortune you earned for me from behind bars could buy ten of these," he said, voice low a
t. Both of them had their sights s
ath, Andreas had plunged into a ruthless corporate war wit
aid softly, lifting her
a brief, silent current between them. "Your room's upstairs, second floor," Andreas murmu
on simmered with fury, the air thick with the
ammed his palm against the armrest, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "She refused to come home
st still be holding a grudge... because we let her take Rylie's blame," she whispered, her voice crack
refully in her hands. Her lashes were damp, her eyes red. "This is all my fault. If I
son - stepped in to block her. "You're in no condition to be ru
ttered, running a hand through his hair as he tried to recall. A sudden spark of recognition flickered in his
n draining to a chalky white. "Why would Aimee ha
ound the living room. No one
ps had been a cold war for years, and if A
otten village and then rotted in prison for three years. How could someone like her po
shing in her eyes. In her mind, Aimee would always be too lowly to b
held more than enough tricks up her sleeve to
imee wouldn't se