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“But it doesn’t serve my interests. How does it serve my interests?”
He knew it would be suicide for Gerri to give up everything for him, and that her question was an invitation for him to plead his case. She built a door out for herself and gave him the key, but still he failed her when all he could do was hold it to his heart and sob.
No fortune could ease his ache. He could make his own pile, kill his family for another billion, use the fucking cash to try and staunch his wounds—all in vain.