“Perhaps they should’ve considered that possibility when they discovered Adam was a Prime. If they hadn’t raised a spoiled, immature egoist, they wouldn’t be in this mess.” “Ms. Baylor.” Someone pounded on the front door. “One moment,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I marched over to the door and checked the monitor. Mad Rogan. I swung the door open. Mad Rogan stood at my doorstep, holding a bouquet of carnations. The ones in the store had been frilly and delicate pink blossoms. These were huge, heavy blooms, crimson, glossy, so dark toward the base of their petals that they were almost black,
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