Der günstigste brandneue, nicht gebrauchte, ungeöffnete, unbeschädigte Artikel in Originalverpackung (falls Verpackung vorhanden).Die Verpackung sollte der Verpackung im Einzelhandel entsprechen, es sei denn, der Artikel ist handgefertigt oder wurde vom Hersteller in einer nicht für den Einzelhandel bestimmten Verpackung geliefert (z.B. in einem unbeschrifteten Karton oder Plastikbeutel).Die Detailangaben enthalten eine genauere Beschreibung.
For fans of We Were Liars, Gone Girl, and The Girl on the Train comes a powerful psychological thriller with a gripping pace and Hitchcockian twists. Set against the backdrop of New York City, this compelling novel delves into the dysfunctional yet mesmerizing world of the mega-wealthy elite and will keep readers guessing until the very last page. The Haves. The Have-Nots. Kate O'Brien appears to be a Have-Not. Her whole life has been a series of setbacks she's had to snake her way out of-some more sinister than others. But she's determined to change all that. She's book-smart. She's street-smart. And she's also a masterful liar. As the scholarship student at the elite Waverly School in NYC, Kate has her work cut out for her: her plan is to climb the social ranks and land a spot at Yale. She's already found her
Penguin LCC US
9780553507904 excerpt Toten / BEWARE THAT GIRL Tuesday, March 22 Kate and Olivia Neither girl moved. The young blonde on the bed didn't move because she couldn't, and the blonde in the chair didn't because, well, it seemed that she couldn't either. Two doctors, a nurse and an orderly barged in, disturbing their silence. They lifted the body in the bed using a sheet, changed the bedding, checked her pulse and heart rate, tapped, touched and shone lights into unseeing eyes. This time they removed the long cylindrical tube that had been taped to the girl's mouth. The withdrawal of the tube was ugly. The body seized, arced and then spasmed. When they left, the girl in the chair resumed her vigil numbed by the reek of ammonia and latex. The doctors never told her anything, so she'd stopped asking. The bedridden girl was attached to a tangled mess of tubes and wires. They led from her battered body to several monitors and a single pole that branched out like a steel tree blooming with bags of IV fluid. Things beeped and hummed on a random timetable that neither girl heard. In the forty-eight hours since their arrival, the girl in the chair rarely broke her vigil to stretch, sleep or go to the bathroom. Her normally perfect blonde hair clung to her scalp, greased darker now with sweat, mud and dried blood. She sat spellbound by the monitors, by the ever-changing colored dots, the indecipherable graphs and especially the wavy green line. The green line was important. She didn't waver, not in all those hours-not until Detective Akimoto cleared his throat in the doorway. She struggled to meet his eyes.
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