Burning His Empire For My Sister

ine Co

e bedside table. It shattered on the floor, water a

I rasped, m

bouquet still in

I screamed, the sound

r shards of glass. A sharp edge sliced his finger. A drop of red blood

ave rushed to his side, would have cleaned the cut, bandaged his hand, kissed

my screaming. He looked up, his eyes searching my face for a fl

glass and stepping closer to the bed. "The crash... i

ut the crash," I s

inued, steamrolling over me. "I was going to en

he front, the impact was worse for her. She was screaming. I p

a moment of panic. He pulled a small box of macarons from his jacket pocket-my favorite, fro

se," he said, his

attering the brightly colored pastries across the floor,

Each word was

ed by a familiar spark of anger. His patience, al

t who' s paying for this VIP suite, Josephine. Don' t forget who paid f

my dead sister, using my grief

My voice d

tight. Then he turned on his heel and stormed o

the sobs I had been holding back finally broke free. I cried for Kiera. I cried for the woman I used to be. I crie

nd for the hospital staff. He came every day, bringing flowers I

tch with pitying eyes, whispering about the poor, heroic Mr. Richards and his ungrateful, hysterical wife. Th

ndar, counting down the seconds until

as packing my small bag, the door

s Bro

tting dress, her face perfectly made up. She looke

ith fake pity. "You look terrible. The

hen again, you never were much to look at. I could neve

im do anything I want. Anything. He bought me a penthouse last week. He' s taking me to Par

focating. "He loves me, Josephine. He was

blood froze. It was the locket my grandmother had given me, the one Brooklyn ha

f my face. "I' ve kept it all these years. A little

ingers around my heart. The room felt small, the air thin. The nightm

r an escape. They landed on the fruit basket Jax had l