Chapter 12: Why Is He Holding *Her*? Doesn't He Think She's Dirty?

Avery

My brother—no, my tormentor—sat on the edge of his desk, his expression a mixture of arrogance and calculation.

Every line of his body screamed of the self-importance that had defined my existence for years.

His expression was cunning and dangerous. I wondered what he was thinking in his mi...

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