I woke to the smell of old leather and expensive, unidentifiable liquor. A dull throb pulsed behind my eyes, and my mouth tasted of cotton and regret. I blinked, my vision swimming in the dim light that filtered through tinted windows. I was lying down. In the back of a moving car. Not just any car—a limousine.
The memory of the wedding hall crashed over me in a sickening wave. The accusations, the venomous lies. Clara’s triumphant smile as the
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