ette or the seething Chip. Victory felt hollow, like ash in her mouth. S

th artistic disdain, stopped her.

as a celebrated, volatile artist, still smelling of turpentine and linseed oil

, running to him. "She's throwing me out!

He was a man ruled by emotion, not logic. He

arled, his face contorted w

ingers digging in, intending t

ast physical violation she wou

er patience, worn thin over ye

on the ball of her foot, letting his momentum carry him past her. In the same fluid mo

air forced from his lu

, twisted, and dropped her center of gravity. I

eet and slammed onto the plush Persian runne

le

, stunne

. This quiet, bookish girl they had always dismisse

the floor. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emot

esture, as if brushing off a piece of lint. Then she let her gaze

my mind," sh

r grew

oney. I don't need y

his moment, I, Fiona, am voluntarily relinquishing the Donalds

ce was more shocking th

ng with Cyrus's, "my attorneys will be in contact. If

voice. It was a vicious, hateful screech. "Get out

all, up the stairs, and into her room. A room that

llow apologies. She walked to her desk and picked up a single, worn silver frame. Inside was a fa

s all s

She passed them without a word, walked through

tside felt f

silently. The passenger door opened. A man in a sharp, dark s

Boss," Silas said in a

he looked back at the imposing manor, the prison of her youth, s

burning promise