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THIRTY EIGHT

Ryder walked into his father’s office, sat down in front of his desk and glared at him. He didn’t want this conversation, but best to get it over with. His father would help him get her back and then make her stay. He had done it once before with his mother. Now, Ryder understood the anger that had pushed his father to reclaim his wife. His mother should have stayed. All she had to do was listen. Just like Alecia should have.

His father leaned back into his seat – his white dress shirt stretched with his movements. His eyes narrowed contrasting with the full smile. “So she left you. I told you to have the council keep an eye on her,” his father said. “But you wanted no one looking at your wife, but you.” His father’s lips curved in a smirk. He was mocking him.

Ryder folded his hands in his lap. He wouldn’t respond to his mockery, letting him see how each word fueled the heat boiling in him.

“Did she wip

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