Savannah
Xavier mentioned casually over breakfast that I should expect visitors from my “friends.”
The thoughts hammered against my skull. Sasha's inner circle, the people who knew her better than anyone, were coming to pay a visit.
According to the doctor, I needed to connect with as many people as possible to "jog" my memory.
A spike of nervous energy shot through me. They would see through me. My pretense was paper-thin.
Thank goodness for the amnesia, I thought wryly. It was the perfect disguise.
But even with memory loss as a shield, I knew I was walking a tightrope. One wrong word, and they would know. They would see the stranger in Sasha’s skin. The imposter.
Liar. Fraud. Thief.
The words kept screaming inside me.
I shook it off as I picked up one of Sasha’s gem-encrusted
