I Married a Blind Man So He’d Never See My Scars

panic. I’m sending you an attorney.”

The attorney’s name was Marcus Vance.

His voice sounded like sharpened glass over the phone.

“You want out?” he asked.

“I want Cook Catering destroyed,” I replied quietly.

“When?”

I looked through the cooler window at my father laughing while drinking coffee I brewed for him.

“In ten days,” I said. “The same day I leave continue reading …