BELLAMY “$900,000 for the entire collection,” a woman hollered. Kenzie looked surprised with the gusto of the bidding. ‘You know damn well what your pieces are worth. Why did you ever let me value them so low?’ ‘Nobody, not even my family, knew about Avalara Key. Mom had been buying pieces for years. I never wanted to share something so personal with them. I know that makes me sound like a horrible daughter, but Avalara was always my escape from feeling so alone,’ she explained. I placed a kiss to her head. Her response tugged at me because it reminded me of how fucked up her life had been. No, she had not been tortured like her mother, but she was still alone and forced into seclusion. ‘It makes you sound human, not horrible. You’re not alone any longer,’ I promised her. ‘I know,’ she smiled and squeezed my hand. “1,000,000,” Tara said smugly as if nobody would bid higher. Good fucking luck. “2,000,000,” I said, raising my paddle. She looked at me, surprised because I rarely
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