His Betrayal, Her Broken Heart

ing tech mogul, was a perfect pa

ublic nightmare when deeply private journals and relics from my archaeologist paren

g from me-the Obsidian Heart, our most treasured family heirloom, for a young designer named Chlo

; it was for my kidney. He needed a matching donor for Chloe, and he had orchestrated everything, trans

band, now remembered nothing of our shared dreams or promises. He looked at me with cold indifference, his