/1/117492/coverbig.jpg?v=5de6e0d13c75f7021f0e0d4377e55f87&imageMogr2/format/webp)
tate. It stopped well short of the winding driveway, where a fleet of polished European imports gleamed under
ed open. Scarlett S
ack canvas duffel slung over one shoulder. Handing a few crumpled
he murmured, her voi
worn sneakers crunched against the imported gravel as she approac
efore she could reach for the brass handle. His face was a masterclass in profess
" he breathed,
staircase stood her mother, Catherine Sinclair. Wrapped in pristine white silk, her perfec
ine's voice sliced through the stillness like a sca
ft floral dress. "Mom, please don't say that," Ashley cooed, her voice a saccharine melody. Bu
ing cheap hotel furniture. She didn't blink. She didn't frown. She simply loo
. It stripped Catherine of her aud
g sharply off the marble. "Where have you been for t
m, breathe. Scarlett must have had her reasons for ru
he picture of grace. Always protecting this family. And t
air. She turned her head slowly. Her eyes,
lett said, her tone so devoid of emotion it made th
physical blow. Catherine's rage suddenly had no
tay in your room. You will watch Ashley and learn how
corner of Scarlett's mouth. It
Ashley's mask of sweet concern. A flash of raw, ugly hat
pened her mouth to shriek, but a heavy, autho
enough, C
cane. His eyes, sharp as flint, pinned his daughter-in-law with absolute disgus
g in front of Scarlett. A heavy, warm hand
elt in hours. The rigid line of Scar
what she-" Catherine st
AC
ne against the marble. The sound wa
ched, her jaw
without another glance at the women seething in the f
s washing over her. This wasn't the volatile, easily triggere
ng slits. The old Scarlett was a pawn
she was a stray dog crawling back for shelter. They were dead wrong. She was
/1/117492/coverbig.jpg?v=5de6e0d13c75f7021f0e0d4377e55f87&imageMogr2/format/webp)