Tyrone looked up.

Their gazes locked in a silent exchange.

Raising his glass, Tyrone poured wine, sliding it to Sabrina. “Sabrina, for my sake, raise a toast to your future sister-in-law.”

The term “sister-in-law” struck a harsh chord.

Was he really asking his wife to toast Galilea in front of their friends? ©

Did he even regard her as his wife?

Or was she just a plaything for him?

cold washed over Sabrina, her body rigid,

want to? Or

nonchalant words, Sabrina’s heart ached, the pretense

good at hurting

how to stab her in the most

about toasting Galilea? That’s not a big

is so gracious. Sabrina, you’re

took the glass from the table. Raising it

she set the glass down,

shook his head, a wry smile playing

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