DEBORAH'S POV
I stumbled out of Sutton Manor into the rain. The drops hit my skin and I didn't even flinch. My mind was somewhere else. It was stuck in that room with my father and his machines and his casual mention of murder. Of a boy who shouldn't exist. Of Imogen.
Imogen Stone. The name still tasted bitter on my mind and I knew that feeling would linger on my tongue as well.
I got into my Bentley, my fingers trembling against the leather steering wheel. Wilson had left the keys in the ignition. He always did. I cranked the engine and peeled out of the driveway, gravel spitting beneath my tires.
I needed to think. I needed to breathe. I needed—
My phone buzzed and I flicked it open. It was from the salon. My original appointment. The one I'd made before my father's summons had derailed my morning.
"Mrs. Rossi? Will you still be joining us today?"
I gripped the phone tight. "Yes. But change of plans. I'm not doing a blow out. I want to go blonde."
