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“You were always our family’s greatest shame, so don’t even think about sitting at the front tables,” my mother told me at my sister’s luxury wedding, forcing me to stand in the rain outside with my little girl. Minutes later, my husband arrived in a black-suited convoy, took one look at our soaking wet daughter, and locked eyes with the wealthy groom who had mocked us. “Kneel and apologize to my princess,” my husband demanded, and as the guards drew their weapons, the arrogant groom dropped straight to his knees in front of all three hundred guests.

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melted into the wall to get out of his way.

Christopher stopped in front of me. He didn’t ask if I was alright; he could see I wasn’t. He smoothly shrugged off his heavy, charcoal suit jacket and draped it over my trembling shoulders. The scent of him—sandalwood, ozone, and cold steel—grounded me instantly. He reached out with a large, warm hand and continue reading …

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