Broken Engagement: The True Heiress Returns

recorder blinked steadily

ter bed. The house was silent. It was 2:00 AM. The Beaumonts

t and pressed

n, voices.

ice said, crisp and commanding. "And only the left

d's voice replied, dripping with

can ask the laundry maid herself. I want

s a blueprint of humiliation. Every detail of how to make

ard this kind of plotting before-in the palaces of Florence, in the court

limpsed additional timestamped files in the recorder's memory.

se, then placed the recorder back in the drawer. It was an

m. She tested the windows. She checked the locks. It was an old ha

or leading to the ha

ic

dle was

eat. Her muscles coiled. Her breathing shallowed. She was

ll silhouette filled the frame,

t scream.

s for brutes. As he took a definitive step onto the Persian rug, she thrust the lamp forward,

re he could recover, Nora was on him instantly, her knee press

nto his ear, her voice low a

out. "I'm not Connor! I

ure on his arm. "Why are

pressed into the carpet. "I had too much to drink at the St

rce of her current predicament. So they were neighbors. She remembered the rum

led out his wallet. She flipped it open.

epping back into a defensive stance. "

t her, his eyes wide with shock. "You... you just took me down

he corner of the ceiling. A small, black

top. She had spent the last week studying the estate's

her fingers flew across the k

istake," she

she didn't need it. She found the entry for the camera in her hallway and, exploiting a loophole in the administrative settings, flagged the time code of Graham's e

ked at Graham, who was standi

one leaving no room for argument. "You found

d. He backed out of the room, cl

n a trance. He found Julian Sterling st

t looking up. "You look l

air. "I wandered into the Beaumont house. Went into

d snapped up

e was like a ninja. Pinned me to the floor in two seconds. T

ont security feed-his little secret for keeping tabs on his nephew, Connor. He had seen Graham walk in

spread across Julian

e's terrifying!"

simple, broken girl. A victim. But a victim doesn't fight like th

s," Julian ordered, hi

usly. "Believe me, I

n on his tablet. He didn't want to f

ipped when she'd closed it earlier-she made a mental note to have it repaired. She turne

ll there, right where she'd left it. She hadn't finished listening to all of its contents

p, and pressed play again. It was time to hear