WRONGFULLY HIS
Somewhere in the city, Veronica sits in the back of a black town car, staring through the tinted glass as the vehicle rolls to a stop.
Then a butler opens the door and bows his head down a bit, greeting her.
“Miss Sterling.”
She steps out, not replying him and walks toward the stone building that's at the end of the private estate driveway.
When she gets inside, she’s led to a grand sitting room, where an older man with steel- gray hair and even colder eyes is sitting reading a newspaper by the fire.
“Xander’s fiancée,” he murmurs without looking up.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
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