Killing Them With Perfection
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Summary
I am clinically obsessed with order. Even after my life was upended—thrust into the center of my wealthy biological family’s drama as the long-lost daughter—I maintained an iron grip on my perfectionism.
I wake at 5:00 AM. I am in bed by 10:00 PM. Every variable is optimized; every outcome is calculated.
That is, until the men orbiting my adopted sister, Mia, decided to declare war on me.
“Who the hell does she think she is? She’s not fit to breathe the same air as Mia.”
The autocratic CEO who mentored us stonewalled my projects, humiliating me in front of the executive board.
