Chapter 42 Walking Away For Good
The scent of jasmine and champagne clung to the velvet night as Genevieve tore through the marble-floored corridor, heels striking like gunshots across the polished stone. Her silver gown clung to her body with every breath, its elegance now a cruel reminder of the illusion she’d dressed herself in. Behind her, laughter echoed. Rosalind's laughter. The sound scraped her bones.
She shoved the doors open. Flash. Flash. Cameras exploded like firecrackers. Reporters shouted her name, voices overlapping, sharp, hungry, intrusive.
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