vff-AT MY STEPSISTER’S 500-GUEST WEDDING, THE SAME FAMILY WHO THREW ME OUT AT SIXTEEN LET ME STAND IN THE BACK OF THE BALLROOM LIKE I WASN’T EVEN BLOOD

but somehow even more dangerously, “Miss Vance.”

A murmur moved through the ballroom.

I felt it rather than heard it—the subtle shift of five hundred people recalculating what they thought they knew.

Bianca gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “What are you doing?”

Julian didn’t look at her.

“Miss Vance,” he repeated, and this time it was not a question. It continue reading …