exit" from Harrington Hol

d one tabloid headline. "Harrington Heir Dumps L

ckery. I was painted as a bitter, past-her-prime shrew, rightfully

e. The chaotic scrum of report

en. A discomfort he couldn't name. He'd focused on the blood on my knee, then h

ion site accident years ago. A steel beam had come loose. I'd shoved him o

ved Olivia had sa

He'd been dazed. She'd tearfully claimed to have pushed him, her delicate frame miraculously unhurt. He'd been

wrist in the news footage, a t

arrington Tower, but the line was discon

as empty. Steri

d I'd never bothered to fix, was an old metal first-aid box. Inside,

ars prior. Dated the day after the construction site accident. Clearly stating the n

ocuments, the blood d

arm in a cast. I'd brushed off his concerns, saying I'd just been clums

undeniable, hit him

him. Olivi

ow sickness churning in his gut. He had built a shrine in his heart to a false i

corated the Chief Designer's office – *my* old office – in shades of

rty for her at The Plaza. It was meant to officially introd

d to a simple ceramic mug on a side table – my favorite coffee mug

ing out?" she said with a moue of dista

, usually indulgent of

d, his voice sharp

, then pouted. "But Jam

w. He picked up the mug himself and put it in his pocket. A s

ubt was beginn