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... ’s shirt into my handbag with extreme care, as if I were hiding evidence of a crime of passion, and left the office with steps I tried to keep balanced despite the hurricane hitting me from within.
I descended the stairs, the sound of my high heels striking the marble with a dry echo, until I reached the locked door that opens only with a passcode.
As soon as the door opened, I found him standing there; the guard Stan, in his black suit and massive body.
He said in a calm ...
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