ella

the freezing river. Julian finally pushed himself up from the gravel, his face a mask of pure, unadulterate

broke

d to salvage the wreckage of her master plan. She lunged

bling in a masterful symphony of fake grief. "You ran off! You di

a is dead! And Julian-Julian is injured because of your absolute selfishness!

d. I would have wept, begged for forgiveness, and let the crush

ed for Rosalie died in a pool o

coat, and then up into her tear-filled eyes. A low, dark laugh slipped past m

er space, forcing her to drop her hands. "If I recall correctly, dear sister, *

hitched. "I-I was

aid because of *your* safe route." I shifted my gaze to Julian, making sure he heard every single word. "Who sho

calculating suspicion. He wasn't a fool; he was a Mafia Underboss. He was beginning to realize tha

ords came out. The perfect, gentle sister facade cra

. Without the veil of blind sisterly affection that had clouded my v

look like

ond eyes and aristocratic nose. It was the undeniable stamp of our bloodline. Rosalie had no

. Garrison Bolton. Our uncle's loyal, mild-mannered Advisor. The sha

n't my

ep-seated jealousy, the lack of familial loyalty, and the ease with which she had slaughtered our family in

lines of her face. Seeing that her anger was useless against my new armor, her expression began to