Scars Of Betrayal: The Heiress's Revenge

sliding shut behind Alice Stafford vibrated

housand and ninety-five days, but now that

er wind in Dan

ued sweatshirt, raising goosebumps on skin tha

d to shield her ey

to the lack of bars, before focusing on the

ck Ma

of place against the cracked pavement and the gr

a painful flip

nn

c

ssed visits, the rumors Martha had hin

ailed letters addressed to him, a stick of lip balm, the clothes she was arrested in, and a t

the man who had once vowed to love her fo

emained m

rolled down halfway. Just enough to reveal

, staring intently at his phone screen.

ightened in her stomach, replacing the

er's doo

ognize stepped out. H

oor and stood back, his face a mask of professional indifference, as if he we

ead and climbed

of rich leather and an expensive, spicy cologne that she used to find comforting. Now

e plush leather foreign again

ce was raspy, unused to speakin

typing something on his phone, hit send, and

f his nose, the harsh blue light of his

ey

a warmth that made her feel li

d scrutiny. He looked at her stringy hair, her pa

of distaste that vanished as quic

an any shank in

ello. He didn't

r console and pulled out a s

bed his hands together methodically, interlacing his fingers, scrubbing the bac

himself. Because

r throat. She felt the b

cool, devoid of any emotion other than mild annoyance. "Don

r the belt. The click of the buckle

as pressed back against the seat, and a dull ache flared in her lowe

e privacy partition slid up, se

aid, looking out the window at the passing

elle. Her sister. The one who had c

said, her voice gaining a fraction of st

as suffered enough because of your mess, Alice. She's been holding the fa

words. "Grateful? I spent three years in

And look at you now. You're a felon, Alice. A liability.

a slap. Physi

ilored suit, the manicured nails, the perfect hai

ingernails into her palms until sh

e had learned that l

blood in

ighway, carrying her away from one