“Poor thing…” someone whispered.
—After the attack, money doesn’t buy new legs.
—Who would want to be tied to that for life?
Sebastian heard everything. Every word. Every poison.
He gripped the armrests until his knuckles turned white. And then the message arrived.
Thomas, his most loyal bodyguard, advanced with a pale face and the phone trembling in his hand.
Sebastian read.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m at the airport with Lorenzo.”
Lorenzo Valente.
The man he believed to be his enemy.
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