a brutal attack-secretly orchestrated by my own sister, Kenisha-shattered my hand
ed; I was "Asset: FB-01." A walking collection of prime organ
g that he'd "get that thing out" of me himself if I compromised his investment. He l
the washing machine. "You hurt my Kenisha," he roared. "Now yo
ock being fattened for slaughter, and my hands-the ones h
nd buried my cat. Then I packed a single bag, booked a flight to London, a
pte
Boot
ave me killed on a Tuesday, using his la
ions and a link to a Forbes article he was featured in. The title was discreet: "
ngs money wasn't supposed to be able to buy. My blood ran cold before I even understood what I was
it. "Asse
niti
d taken a few weeks ago, while I was asleep on the sofa, a sliver of sunlight war
o, the text was
ed, low-stress environment for the past three years to ensure optimal organ viability. Primary asset of interest: Heart.
he held and called
It was a conversation between Daryl and a user named "K." My s
is being arranged. Just
r, D. Does she have any idea she's ju
ior. It' s almost poetic. The heart she uses to l
r. My chronically ill, perpetually fragile little sister, who the world adored. Daryl, the man who had pulled m
k alley behind my college music hall. The smell of stale beer and rain-soaked concrete filled my nose. Bradley Spen
he'd slurred, his face a mask of cruel satisfacti
bones in my right hand. The pain was blinding, but the image seared into my memory was
l Chavez's calm, reassuring face. He was a visiting tech mogul, a guest lecturer at the university. He said he' d found me, t
he truth. He wasn't saving me. He was preserving me. Like
o violently I could barely control them. I crawled back to the laptop
er, lived there. Her son, Jakob Mendoza, was my cousin. We hadn' t been close in years, but he was my
lew across t
Family Matter -
ko
ange a marriage for me. I need to get out of the country. I was hoping... maybe you and I could e
I could think of that sounded both urgent and vaguely p
e back almo
s is sudden. Of course, I'll help you. B
forcing a semblance o
omplicated. I just need
ssistant will book you a flight. It will be under your
. The irony was a bit
hank you. I o
walked in, a perfect smile on his handsome face. He dropped h
You okay? Y
smile. "J
enisha is coming over for dinner. She's been feeling a bit down. I was hoping y
I had learned to ignore. He loved her. It was so obvious now. His care for me, his protect
ng tonight," I said, my
ne." He reached for me, his hand closing around my arm. It
arm away. The small act o
grabbed me again, his fingers digging into my fl
monstrous betrayal in his perfect face. Do you know what they call selfish, Da
uth burning a hole in my throat.
ing back into a mask of gentle persuasion. "Look, baby, I'm sorry. I'm ju
. Now I understood. She was different because she was the one he loved. She was the
ir perfect little love st