disappear. The street was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. She felt utterly alone, adrift in a life t
ue, Julian Sterling pulled his phone from his
voice on the o
," Julian
lf-storage facility. He guided the van toward a large, windowless roll-up door
ar enthusiast weep. A vintage Aston Martin, a sleek Ferrari, and
ing. He opened the driver's side door
ray t-shirt and jeans, leaving them in a heap on the concrete floor. The suited man handed him
The blue-collar security guard vanished. In his place stood the C
d, sealing him in silence. As the car pulled smoothly out of the garage and into the city traffic, headin
" The voice on the other end was his younger br
an said, hi
new Mrs. Sterling.
n that cheap café, her cheeks red with shame but her eyes defiant as she insisted o
, the words feeling like an understatemen
that's the highest praise imaginable. So, the
your end. As far as Grandmother is concerned
going to keep this up? Playing a twenty-eight-hundred
e call and looked out the window. The Aethel-Stark tower loomed ahead, a m
he Sinclair-Beaumont family was a strategic merger, not a rel
ndor. But her story had intrigued him. An orphan, adopted into a family that clearly exploited her, working tirelessly to build somethi
t kind of person she was when stripped of all pretenses. He wanted to see what
had surp
double life, was
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