All that matters is me and this sweet boy who thinks I’m beautiful.
—Stacey Trombley
When I feel myself slipping to the darkness of my past, I’ll close my eyes and remember this. Remember Jackson.
How did pretty little Anna go from Westchester suburb brat to New York hooker? Now that’s a story.
I’m not the damsel in distress. I’m the villain. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes this.
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