My Broken Hands Sing On
Language: en
It was Chelsea who took the car out at three in the morning, high on adrenaline, and left a man dead on the asphalt. But it was my fiancé—the man I was supposed to marry in three days—who stood in my living room and asked me to take the fall. I gripped the delicate lace of my wedding dress, my knuckles turning white, staring at him in utter disbelief. Zachary lit a cigarette, his face a mask of chilling composure. "Chelsea is pregnant, Norma. It's mine." He took a slow drag, the smoke curling between us. "She won't survive prison. But you... you're different. You're strong. You can handle…