119. THE FUNERAL OF JERMEY DUFORT

Layla woke up feeling disoriented.

Sunlight spilled through the penthouse window, and there he was—Zaley—standing shirtless by the floor-to-ceiling glass, wearing nothing but sweatpants, arms crossed over his chest, watching her. He didn’t look like someone who had just woken up.

“Lilly?” she murmur...

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