Revealing My Secret Identities! My Bros Are Speechless!

e leather cool against her thighs, her fingers t

ed into a stream of grey and beige, but Journey wasn't look

gain. The number was burned

ercent

throat at the realization that their entire life was a lie. But Journey felt her shoulders drop

e performance w

slipped her hand into the hidden pocket

y nomination li

She slid the phone deeper into the bag, burying the identity of the music i

f the Kensington estate driveway.

posture rigid. As Journey stepped out of the car, ignoring the driver's outstretch

w rumble. "Mr. and Mrs. Kensington are

he girl who shared t

e air. She walked up the limestone steps, her hee

nylon duffel bag sat on the marble floor near the

ver tray. She didn't look up. She kept her eyes fixed on

moothed a stray hair, checking her reflection. She didn't look like a girl who

teady herself. It was to suppress

. The hinges groaned, a sound that echoe

as thick, suffocating. It sme

e looked tragic, in the way actresses look tragic in silent films. Preston Kensington stood by the f

edge of the othe

e. Her posture was hunched, making her look smaller, more fragile. When Journey ent

he sat down, crossing her ankles, her s

id. It wasn't a greet

of habit. Then she corre

b. She reached out and patted Alleen's

d, wet with tears. But beneath the water, Journey sa

folder on the coffee table and slid it across the

work," Pre

er. It was her exit visa.