Chapter 17

• Cassie George sat alone in the dimly lit study of her mother’s subtle house, a place that had always felt more like a prison than a home.
• The house, though tidy, was filled with an oppressive sense of lost dreams and bitter memories.
• Her fingers traced the edges of an old photograph, the edges worn from years of handling. It was a picture of her mother, Margaret George, and a man who had once promised her the world—Donald Wilton.