What It Takes To Mend A Broken Heart

m childhood that became the entire blueprint of my world

was a recreation of a sketch he'd doodled on a napkin years ago, an idle fantasy I had memorized and brought to life. I felt a nervous tremor

made his

uxedo. But he wasn't alone. On his arm was Lena Thorne, a wom

as wearin

rper, colder, its fabric screaming of a price tag I couldn't imagine. It was a commercia

le in a room of

aist. "A special thank you to the stunning Lena Thorne," he said, his smile blinding. "Her innate ele

. He was praising he

graceful, practiced motion that sent the full glass of red wine in her han

oomed like a

a instantly. "Are you alright?" His v

cold and sharp

id, his voice low and laced with

did nothing but smear the wine. Two women reapplyi

hering to be quiet. "Cedric's little shado

small, worn silver locket around my neck. It was a gift from him, fro

whispered, the old promise sounding l