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Four months after Grace Mercer walked back into a burning apartment and sacrificed half her face to save the man she loved, he came home for lunch with another woman and a suitcase. Grace had spent the entire morning cooking with one hand because her left arm still would not rise above her shoulder. She had set the table for two, believing that if she could make one ordinary meal, perhaps she and Logan Pierce could finally have one honest conversation.
The man outside wore a dark overcoat despite the m…
The man outside wore a dark overcoat despite the mild Chicago afternoon. He was perhaps forty-five, with silver beginning at his temples and the composed stillness of someone accustomed to other people moving when he entered a room. He remained one full step from the doorway.
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Disclaimer: This story is fictional and created for entertainment purposes only.
Any names, characters, places, or events are fictitious or used fictitiously.
No real person or organization is intended to be portrayed.