had died and credible records of serious domestic cruelty had been buried.
Back then, the Sterlings’ extensive commercial property portfolio was secretly bleeding cash. Creditors were closing in. Their plan to avoid bankruptcy was brutally straightforward: sell me off.
“It is a strategic alliance, Blair,” Eleanor had hissed that night, her French-manicured fingernails digging into the soft flesh of my shoulder with the mechanical precision of a hawk’s talons. “Women of our pedigree do not marry for foolish affection. You are a remarkably unexceptional girl with a mediocre university degree.