Part 1
My name is Cordelia, and at twenty-eight, I was supposed to be the invisible failure of our family while my older sister, Levvenia, played the glamorous luxury realtor. In reality, I was quietly running an LLC advising major real estate investment funds, holding nearly two million dollars in assets while handing over eighty percent of my day-job paycheck...
Part 1
My name is Cordelia, I’m twenty-eight, and right now, the metallic tang of blood is filling my mouth while a heavy brass buckle whips through the air straight toward my face.
I ducked instinctively, crashing hard against my oak dresser as the thick leather belt sliced across my bare shoulder. A white-hot agony flared down my spine. Above me...
Part 1
My name is Cordelia, and at twenty-eight, I thought I had learned how to swallow my own blood in silence. But nothing prepares you for the sound of thick leather cutting through the air before it tears directly into your flesh.
The first strike caught me across the collarbone, driving all the oxygen straight out of my lungs. My...
PARTE 2 — EL SECRETO QUE CONVIRTIÓ A MI SECUESTRADOR EN MI PROTECTOR
Adrien tomó el teléfono. «Sebastian Croft», dijo, con una voz peligrosamente tranquila. «Tienes exactamente treinta segundos para explicar por qué una mujer embarazada tiene cicatrices en la espalda». Siguió un silencio. Luego, Sebastian soltó una carcajada. «Cuidado, Rossy. Amelia tiene talento para exagerar». Se me revolvió el...
PART 2 — THE SECRET THAT TURNED MY KIDNAPPER INTO MY PROTECTOR
Adrien lifted the phone. “Sebastian Croft,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “You have exactly thirty seconds to explain why a pregnant woman has scars across her back.” Silence followed. Then Sebastian laughed. “Careful, Rossy. Amelia has a talent for exaggerating.” My stomach twisted. I knew that laugh....
PART 2 — THE MAN AT THE DOOR AND THE SECRET ACCOUNT
The doorbell rang again. Three sharp presses. Veronica stood motionless, staring toward the entrance as though she had summoned someone she suddenly regretted calling. I tucked Grandma’s letter into my jacket. “Who’s outside?” I demanded. “Open the door,” she said. “Absolutely not.” Then a man’s voice called from...
Part 1
My name is Maeve Vance, I’m twenty-eight, and five days ago, half my lower intestine was surgically removed after a catastrophic ischemic ulcer ruptured inside my abdomen. I was sitting on my living room sofa in Chicago, clutching an ice pack to my fresh, heavily bandaged surgical incision while an ambulatory intravenous infusion pump whirred beside me, steadily...
Part 1
My name is Maeve, and I was choking on my own blood when my sister leaned over my trembling body with a smartphone camera pointed at my face.
Ten days ago, surgeons cut out a necrotic section of my ulcerated intestine, leaving me bedridden with a surgical abdominal incision and a continuous central IV line pumping life-saving total parenteral...
Part 1
My name is Maeve. At twenty-eight, I thought the hardest thing I’d ever survive was pulling myself out of poverty after my family cleaned out my college fund to pamper my older sister, Sloan. I was dead wrong. Survival wasn’t about money; it was about the air burning in my lungs right now.
I lay pinned against the cushions...
PARTE 2
El peso de Damian me dejó sin aliento justo cuando la bala se incrustaba en la estantería. «¡Quédate abajo!», ordenó. Otro disparo atravesó la ventana. Una alarma comenzó a sonar en la planta baja. Damian sacó una pistola de una funda que llevaba en el tobillo y me arrastró tras la chimenea de piedra. «¿Cómo han logrado cruzar...
