Michelle

If you’re reading this story, you’re three hours too late. 

While you were staring at the hot asshole on the cover, I was crouched in the shadows of Cross International’s boardroom, counting down the seconds before committing a murder. 

The moment the last terrified employee clocked out, I slipped out of the closet—extension cord in hand—and did the world a favor by strangling Nathaniel Cross. 

You’re welcome. 

Please send gifts to my prison cell—preferably coffee, ra...