I freeze, recognizing my train ticket. The one I’d stashed with my ballgown and shoes. My eyes flash toward the trunk. Imogen snickers. “I called on a locksmith to open that thing days ago when you were off playing princess with His Highness.”
Just like I said she would. But the thing is, what does it matter now? Something stupid like she needs to claim her inheritance so she can get that ticket or buy a new one? 🙄🙄
