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I could think about was how the seams dug into my ribs, making it hard to breathe normally. I
sed to feel like a princess. Instead, I just
His skin had a grayish, almost papery tint, and his eyes kept darting toward the front door every time so
was too loud, too forced. "The
verdue" notices hidden under the mat on his desk. I had heard him pacing at three
!" the cro
ring party. Then, the doors didn't just open... they slam
e, but awkwardly, fading out bit
here. Da
a storm. His dark gray suit was damp, and his slicked-back hair revealed a face of sharp angle
meone coming to recla
voice cracked. He sounded s
e marble. He pulled a black leather folder from his jacket and tossed it. It didn't land on a table;
he floor. "As of nine o'clock this morning, I own the bank. That means I own the
comfortable heat rise up my neck. I wanted to
He looked like he was about to crumble
e stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking up at me. "You told me you had
ed at my father. I expected him to tell him to g
even able to look at me. He
here," my f
s the man who had raised me handed me over to the man who hated us most in the w
ne step. Two. He was in no hurry.
uld smell the rain and the bitter scent of cedar on him. He was so clos
his lips bru
is words cut like a blade. "Enjoy it. Because when I'm through with you, you'll
pressionless. He raised his cane and pointed the silver tip di
r bags, Claire. You don't live here anymore. Yo
Now it felt heavy. Cold. Like the first link o

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