idn't s

and smuggled me out of the stadium. He was skeptical, but my k

et in his penthouse that wa

ordered, before leaving to meet

, all fake concern. The uncle, his tone dripping with condescensi

who sent the assass

uffocating. I was a prisoner in a leopard head, in a

the closet door. With a final push, I tumbled out, rolling ac

out the

ing. I landed with a soft splash in a decorative river tha

low water, a soggy,

A woman, her hair wild, her clothes a strange collection of

rms, her eyes filled wi

my fake fur. "You sent me a gift. You

ex-lover the tabloids had ripped to shreds, the o

t I was a present

ly a soap opera. A v