MAKAYLA POVHer fingers leisurely yet with impatience, tapped the table. He was supposed to be here.9:00pm. Her glittering gold watch read. Her frown deepened. She was hungry-- very for that fact and her father, adopted, wasn't here for the dinner at a luxury suite, that he himself invited her to. If she didn't love the man, she would've left. This was an insult!Her jaw ticked as the faint ticking of her watch filled her eardrums. Where was the damn man?! Again, she repeated, if she didn't love this man, she would've left.Picking up her glass of exotic champagne, her perfectly manicured fingers played with the glass, her reflection becoming visible to her eyes. Her excellently carved eyebrows, eyes, lips; lips that never smiled, nose and the outlines of her face. Those weren't hers. It belonged to another-- a dead another.This face wasn't hers.Life, oh life and it's little petty quirks.Five years ago, everything was different. Her face
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