/1/100720/coverbig.jpg?v=bff26f621647b9443114206b14c00e4d)
ots, fully aware I was just a pawn in his toxic gam
ulldoze my childhood home for a new resort, le
riends beat me sense
rra threatened my mother, he broke i
my knees in a crowded bar, ordering me to b
usband for a shred of mercy. He just turned away and kiss
oarded a private jet with a divorce settlement that could crippl
pte
na
s grave, the fresh dirt still soft under my heels. The eulogy was just ending, my mother's silent tears
e screen. A message
fingers trembled, ma
miliar,
loaded. It was a selfie,
lders. Kiarra, her head thrown back, laughing. Her red
familiar one. Clayto
ble archway of this very cemetery. The one my father had help
tomach. Not just the photo.
just a temporary distraction. A charity case he picked up off
ith tears. With a sudden
calloused from stone. My father, who had taugh
While his wife grieved. While h
n. My
d in my chest. So
th sorrow, reached for my han
ace was a mask. My smile, thin a
I thought
the small crowd. My heart hammered against my rib
dden. Berneice Chase' s private number
isp, sharp voice answered. "Th
, betraying none of the earthqua
a sigh escaping her lips. "I always knew you had more
"I want half of everything Clayton owns. Not his trustinvestments have been... significant. And he' s been rather care
r the rolling hills of Appalachia, my home. "A substantial
anged," she said
e. "Introductions. To the right people. In Europe. The fash
e asking for quite a lot, Alana. Was your love fo
or Clayton," I said, forcing a faint tremor into my voice, "was the only real thing
lieve you for a second. But cleverness I can work with. Consider it d
" I agreed. "Tha
phone. The bitter taste
ome, so oblivious. My husba
ssion. He would pull stunts, wild, dangerous things, all to catch her attention. And Kiarra,
then, at the same elite NYC unive
ancing precariously. Kiarra below, laughing with her f
n. And again. I saved his reckless life,
at a charity gala, publicly humiliatin
unassuming girl, always somehow in his orbit. He saw m
es blazing with a cold fire I mistook for
dent who cleaned dorms to make ends meet. He was a ticket out. A chance at se
re and the Backwoods Belle." Societ
ething shift
ought me clothes, jewels. Not out of love, I
my upbringing, calling me "the mountain mouse." Clayton, wi
talks about my
three years. A seemingly per
back. Like a pers
Anonymous at first.
lbilly, Alana. No amoun
ame in his sl
sting on Clayton' s thigh at a restau
cemetery. It was the
illbilly girl who cleaned dorms. Not anymore. I was Alana Chase. And my
d. The old, rickety house. The worn-o
an't hear, can't spea
iversity event. She' d laughed at my worn
my embarrassed form. "The help. You really sho
"the help" again. I would never be looked down upon. I wou
knew it. I admitted it, even to m
s low. I never thought he would betra
nted him back. And Clayton, like a
. Any shred of doubt I had left, any flicker of hope that he might truly care, had d
. I had to secure my future. And I
arm of Clayton' s sofa, her fingers tracing his jawline. Clayton, leaning b
ering with malice. "You're back. We were just d
nteresting ideas for a new resort project. She th
" I managed, my voice barely
, sweetie. Bulldoze all those charming, dilapidated shacks. Make way for
just business, Alana. We'll offer a f
ot just the public humiliation. My home. My father's memory. Ev
ce thick with unshed tears. "Th
es. "It's already been signed, Alana. Ki
t my lungs. He let her do th
e of her lips. "Don't worry, Alana. We'll
ton. His face was impassive. He
d steel. This is it, I thought. This

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