Once all that was done, Dylan showed up at the Moore family residence over and over again looking for me.
Late love is worth less than dirt. I never gave him a single chance to meet me.
So even as I was busy wrapping up wedding preparations in Brooklyn, my good mood stayed completely untouched.
Then, on the eve of the wedding, a live breaking news broadcast started playing on the big screen mounted in the hotel dressing room.
A horde of reporters swarmed Dylan, cameras and microphones shoved right in his face.
He stood on the rooftop of Larc Group headquarters, his hair stuck up in messy tufts, and his gaze was utterly hollow.
A flood of shouting questions crashed over him from every direction.
"Mr. Larc, did you know about Chelsea's crimes long before this came out?"
"How do you p
