"Would you mind taking off your gloves to show my wife?" Remington asked gently, his voice filled with a subtle curiosity. "I don't mind at all. I was just worried about startling Mrs. Dashiell," came the calm reply.

Lizetta was somewhat puzzled by their exchange, but Eileen set down her glass of water and slowly removed her gloves. Despite preparing herself for something unusual, Lizetta couldn't help but flinch and pale slightly at the sight of Eileen's hands.

Eileen's right hand was missing a thumb, cleanly it had been severed at the base.

The scar was smooth, healed over time, but the sight was still jarringly discomforting.

Lizetta, managing to suppress her shock, politely averted her gaze and spoke with a strained voice, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really. It's been many years. I've gotten used to it."

take Lizetta's trembling hand in his own, before saying to Eileen, "I'd like a moment alone with my wife, if you don't

into the living room, carrying

turned to

suspicions but hoped the reality wasn't as

that led me to her. I thought

skipped a beat; it seemed disbelief slowed

about it, that's okay. I won't ask

a past that included Stella; it was a taboo subject that he had

But Stella, always the adventurous one, had cut her hair short to match mine. I had gotten hot and took off my

wrong; the cops showed up, and the kidnappers, furious and panicked, took us both and ran. We were beaten, starved, tormented for

we managed to escape, we chewed through our bindings while the remaining

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