The Hidden Heiress Returns
My own face stared back at me from every angle—laughing, crying, breaking—watching the moment I’d been dreading my entire life.
“You think this was about entertainment,” he said quietly. “About voyeurism.”
His voice was calm, too calm. The kind of calm that came from certainty, not regret.
I lifted my chin, refusing to shrink even as my pulse thundered in my ears. “I think you stood in the shadows and watched me bleed.”
“Yes,” he said. “I did.”
The word landed heavy to my chest.
“And you think that makes you some kind of hero?” I snapped.
“No,” he replied. “I think it makes me the only one who was paying attention.”