img Serve Me, My Lord  /  Chapter 8 8 | 16.00%
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Chapter 8 8

Word Count: 858    |    Released on: Today at 17:10

afternoon. A light, freezing

veway. The tires screeched as they stopped i

en. He wore his stiff gray uniform. The rai

e sharp black stilettos and a custom black mourning dre

black umbrella over her head. She wore a simple black dress. He

cramped. Acid burned the back of his throat. The phantom feeli

aste of copper blood filled his mouth. The physical pain

pa ordered. She waved her hand at the

of a massive leather steamer trunk. He lifted

suddenly. She turned around and looked at E

aid. Her voice was soft and sweet. "Pl

d at Clara with pure worship in his

ately dropped his shoulders. He look

tt said. He bowed his h

ly. The dumb, grateful ser

ling of power. She turned aroun

s she walked away. The fake awe in his eyes vanished

room. He knelt in the far corner, wiping the marble edge of the firepla

s in the center of the room. They had kicked all t

cigarette. She blew the

coldly. "My husband needs the trust fund money

er voice. "Your father has a plan. We are

who was sitting by the window, pretending to re

ike a pure saint. Now she has to open

k angry. She looked up at Philippa. A cold,

townhouse in the capital," Clara said softly, "I don't care. I

ly. It was the exact same tone she

n the polished stone. The last tiny piece of his past-life trauma s

nally hit the heavy brass f

. It hit the stone floor

mped. They stopped

She glared at Emmett. "You clumsy

He grabbed the poker with shaking han

stuttered. He kept his head do

hand in disgust. "Get o

t his head bowed as he backed out of

stood in the hallway. He had ruined their secret meeting, and he had hear

s going to make sure her

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