The low hum of the engine filled the tight space between us. Outside, city lights streaked past the tinted windows.I stared at the wad of tissues in my hand. Dark red and sticky.If this illness were to finally swallow me whole, my biological parents wouldn't shed a genuine tear. They’d likely just complain about my funeral disrupting their vacation plans before hurrying home to divide whatever meager assets I left behind.The Sinclaires? They’d buy the most obnoxious, oversized floral arrangement just to make sure the lifestyle magazines caught them looking appropriately tragic.Right, they'd do exactly that.They'd wipe me from their memories as easily as sweeping dust under a rug.I tilted my head against the cold leather seat, my eyes sliding toward the man behind the wheel.If I were going to die, I would make sure he and they never forgot me. I wanted my name to be a thorn in their throats, haunting them for the rest of their lives.Not with regret. Regret was too easy for them
Última atualização : 2026-04-28 Ler mais