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Chloe Bishop's skin was fair and delicate, and the bruise on her knee stood out like an ink stain on fine jade—jarring and pitiful.

She pulled down her hem and said flatly, "Just a fall. I'm not dead."

Her coldness displeased Xavier Grayson. "Your mother said you were terrified. You seem fine to me."

Her gaze shifted from somewhere in the distance to his face. She stared at him intently