The leather of the town car’s backseat felt like cold skin. Outside the windows, the pulse of Miami faded, replaced by the oppressive rows of royal palms that lined the entrance to the Thorne Estate. I sat in silence. I was "home," but as the massive iron gates swung shut behind us, the sound of the latch clicking into place felt like a cell door locking.
Edward, my father’s driver, didn't look at me. He had seen me at my highest and my lowest, and today, I was simply a package being returned to its sender.
"Your father is at the pool," Edward said as we pulled up to the mansion.
"And... Miss Isabelle is with him," he warned me.
My jaw tightened. Isabelle. My blood began to simmer, a heat that had nothing to do with the humidity and everything to do with the woman who had destroyed my
