He called off our engagement for another woman. He said I'd never be his Donna. But he didn't know who I really was.
That night, I boarded my aunt's gunship—the Crimson Godmother of Europe. A year later, I'm the continent's biggest arms dealer. And he's kneeling in the rain, begging for one more look.
Too late, Mr. Vance. The rose you threw away? She's blooming in someone else's garden now.
