My Mother Slapped Me At My Sister’s Wedding Because I Refused To Sign Over My Penthouse

I found a velvet bench near the concierge desk, sat down, and took out my phone.

Marcus Webb’s office answered on the first ring.

“This is Paige Harrison,” I said. “Please tell my grandmother that the documents are needed.”

“Understood, Miss Harrison. She’ll be there within the hour.”

I hung up. I touched my cheek, which was still warm. I waited.

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