Divorced With His Heir In My Belly
When we reached the heavy oak doors of my study, she scanned the hallway, slipped inside, and waited for me to close the door before she spoke.
"I contemplated showing this to Norman first," Skye said, pacing the length of the rug. She stopped and looked at me, her blue hair messy from a day of staring at monitors. "But I have to be honest, Sarah. I’ve been in this valley for forty-eight hours, and my spirit doesn’t just disagree with that man. His 'Mr. Perfect' aura gives me the absolute ick. There’s something performative about him."
"Skye, if this is just about a personality clash—"