unlight shone directly into Ginny's e

ediately. Her mind

he sounds coming from the downstairs room. The floorboards outsi

bare feet on the cold wooden floor, crossed the small

e from the other

low, high-pitched, hoarse voice. "Why is Master bri

pered. "It's all Miss Coretta's f

ct? What

t she'd rather die than marry Bedford Parks. Everyone in Silicon Valley knows what kind of person he is. A monst

ght back the new g

She'll marry that madman, while Miss Coretta will continue living he

iness pact between the Steele and Parks families stipulated that a Steele daughter must marry a Parks heir. Coretta had rej

df

er vision-Bedford's bloodstained face pressed against her skin, the wet, na

ove

and she was in excruciating pain. The maids all called her a

tely nothing. No

dark, crazed light ignited in her eyes. He wasn't a m

rabbed the brass doorknob

mped up in terror, letting

ay, her eyes burning wit

manded, her voice

ned around and almost fell down the n

he door shut. T

ss zipper, pulled aside the cheap T-shirt and tattered jeans, until her fingertips touched the thick stitching

ject tightly wrapped in a black, opaque garment bag. She stood up and pla

rom old crates near a trailer park. Using the exquisite skills honed in her past life as a behind-the-scenes designer for a top Parisian luxury bran

. The touch was like liquid obsidian gliding over her skin-a testament to her exquisite cr

dress on the rickety wardrobe handle. She wal

he branches of an ancient oak tree. Catering staff were constructing a ten-tiered champagne tower. Florists were weaving clusters of white o

ountry bumpkin, dressed in cheap and shabby clothes, to stumble down the

ed into a sharp a

ight, she wasn't there to merely survive the banquet, but to co