brass of the doorknob when his voice cut thr

to

back to him, a final, fragile shield against the cruelty she knew was coming. The

floor, a slow, deliberate tread that echoed the pounding in her ear

devoid of any warmth. "And she won't just be a guest. She will be

ical blow. She spun around, her eyes wide wi

e that had been in the Sterling family for generations. It was a symbol. A statement. By tradition, it w

shaking with a mixture of anger and desperation. "It belo

reath. "Sloane has already

wearing my dignity around her neck at my event. That

ining space between them, his towering frame blocking out t

how this 'legal' arrangement came to be. You think I don't remember? You, in my hotel room? The conveniently timed photographers? You

mmed into her with the force of a battering ram. The room tilted, the edges of her vision

was the victim, too. But the words died in her throat. The utter hatred in hi

ace. "The necklace will be delivered to Sloane's apartment tomorrow morning," he said

saw a complete stranger. A cruel, cold monster who enjoyed her pain. In that instant, whatev

er her. The shaking stop

his what you want?" she asked, her voice

have. A flicker of something-annoyance? confusion?-crossed his

oken smile touched her lips, a smile th

ish," she

ements fluid and deliberate. She grasped the doo

e in conversation, their eyes hungry for gossip. They saw her face-pale as a ghost, her mak

ed past them all, a queen in exile, her broken pride her onl

ut behind her. She stepped

t box, her strength deserted her. Her knees buckled, and she sli

t, scalding torrent, washing away the last three years of her life. Th

one. Her fingers, clumsy with grief, scrolled through he

g breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She stood up, pulled a pair

difference firmly in place. She pushed through the revolvi

ne buzzing. When the lawyer's secretary a

swallowing her words. "Please tell Mr. Thorne I ne