RHETTI told myself I wouldn’t look for her. And I hadn’t for 10 excruciating years. I told myself if Sloane Hart ever came back to this town, I’d let her pass like a ghost- unacknowledged, unimportant. The way she wanted it. That lie lasted me exactly six hours.I know she’s back here, at my family's estate grounds before anyone tells me. Albeit I knew she rolled into town in her rental at nine am sharp, from my assistant Hailey. But, aside from that, The Whitmere Hotel has a way of humming when something important walks through its doors like the walls themselves are paying attention. Tonight, the air feels tighter. Charged.When I exit the private elevator I'd just been in, she's walking in the lobby of the Whitmere Hotel, black stiletto heels clicking softly against the marble I paid for with blood and broken knuckles. She looks like she stepped out of a fashion magazine in a cream silk dress, oversized designer sunglasses, and her fiery red hair curled around her glossy and loos
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