The scar sat there, just beneath the neckline of my dress. The delicate curve of it followed the inner edge of my left collarbone, and no matter what I wore now, it was always going to be visible, sadly. Even my most conservative necklines wouldn’t shield it. Dominic had clearly been paying close attention to my wardrobe choices, the thought making my stomach twist.
Winter would be different, though. Scarves would become my new best friend.
The scar itself was strangely beautiful, its intricate design was an odd mixture of craftsmanship, and cruelty for all I cared. Flowing curvy letters swirled together in a pattern so perfect it could’ve easily been a monogram or something to be admired, if it weren’t for the dark reason behind it. 'D', 'Z', and 'G'—the three letters coiled in a way
