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Too Late Mr. Sterling: You Lost Me
img img Too Late Mr. Sterling: You Lost Me img Chapter 9 9
9 Chapters
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 9 9

The guest room bathroom was cold. The heating vent was blocked. Harper splashed water on her face, trying to calm her racing heart.

She needed a towel.

She opened the vanity cabinet under the sink. It was cluttered with travel-sized shampoos and old cleaning supplies. She pushed aside a bottle of bleach.

Her hand brushed against something soft. Something silk.

She frowned. She reached in and pulled it out.

It was a pair of stockings. Black, sheer, with an intricate lace top.

Harper stared at them. They weren't hers. She bought her hosiery at department stores in bulk. These were Wolford. She recognized the pattern. They cost more than her weekly grocery budget.

They hadn't been hidden carefully. They were shoved into the corner of the cabinet, caught on the drain pipe, as if someone had stripped them off in a hurry and kicked them out of sight. A hasty, passionate removal.

She brought them closer to her face.

The scent hit her instantly. Black Opium.

And beneath the perfume... something muskier. Something undeniable.

Mia.

Mia had been here. In her home. In her guest bathroom.

Harper visualized it. Archer working late. Mia coming over "to drop off files." The two of them sneaking into the guest room so they wouldn't mess up the master bed-or maybe just for the thrill of it.

Harper felt her stomach heave. She dropped the stockings into the sink and retched. Nothing came up but acid.

She gripped the porcelain, her knuckles white. This was her sanctuary. This was the one place she thought was safe. And they had defiled it.

She looked at the stockings again. They looked like a snake coiled in the white sink.

Rage, pure and blinding, took over.

She yanked open the drawer. Nail clippers. Tweezers. Scissors.

She grabbed the scissors. They were small, sharp, surgical steel.

She picked up the stockings. She didn't just want to throw them away. She wanted to destroy them. She wanted to destroy her.

She started cutting.

Snip. The lace tore.

Snip. The silk shredded.

She hacked at the fabric, breathing hard, her teeth gritted. Every cut was for a lie. Every cut was for a missed dinner. Every cut was for "dead fish."

She was sobbing now, silent, heaving sobs that shook her whole body. The black fabric fell into the sink in ribbons, like dead leaves.

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