SAGE'S POV Victoria's knife was still warm from my blood. I sat in the chapel pew with my hands partially free behind my back, the glass pieces hidden in my palm cutting into my skin. I didn't move. I just allowed the pain to hurt me while Victoria paced in front of me rehearsing the next day's plan like it was a school presentation. "You'll stand at the podium," she instructed, consulting her notes. "With a clear voice. Don't cry until the end because crying at the beginning looks fake." She looked up at me. "Are you listening?" "Every word," I said, nodding slowly. "Good. Because if you miss one line, if you deviate from the script by even one sentence, my man outside would make a phone call." She held up her phone. "One call and your father's apartment would catch fire while he's sleeping inside." Julian made a strangled sound from his chair. His face was destroyed by grief, his eyes were red and swollen from crying about his mother but underneath the grief, I saw some
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