Start from the beginning Page 13 of 13
“One day… they’ll regret all of this.”
Then my phone lit up.
A name flashed on the screen.
Dimitri Ambramov.
“Hello?” I whispered.
His voice came through low and unwavering, sharp as steel.
“The seven days are nearly over, Vivienne. Prepare yourself. I’m coming to Europe to claim what belongs to me.”
I do not look back after the hotel vanishes behind the bend of the coastal road. The Gulf Shores night slides past the …
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When I was ten years old, I once cried and begged my mother and grandmother to go next door and formally ask for the ne…
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