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Chapter Eighty Seven

Veil’s father looked up in surprise as she stormed into the house, visibly upset. She mumbled hello to him and dashed down the hallway into her bedroom, reigning her emotions in until she closed the door behind her.

The room looked exactly as it did twelve years ago when Veil was still in high school. A picture of West Life, her favorite band at the time, graced the wall over her bed, and on the other side were words of affirmation her mother had forced her to put up, even though she hadn’t seen the usefulness.

Standing before the cursive words artistically impressed onto the wall, she read them line after line, wishing that some part of her would take them for what they were rather than bother about what Orleans had said tonight.

“I’m pretty,” she muttered to herself. “I’m brave. I’m kind. I belong to wealth.”

It sure didn’t feel like it right now.

“What the hell am I doing?” Veil whispered, dropping to the floor. With her back resting on the wall, she put her head in her hands, wis
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