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... nd’s actions. Everything he did lately felt calculated, deliberate, like a chess move I could not quite decipher. Why was he doing all this? What exactly was he planning?

"My name is Mabel, but most people call me Mama," the stylist introduced herself, breaking me from my reverie.

"Lena," I replied, still trying to steady my thoughts.

"Yeah, I know who you are," she said with a smile.

The way she said it made something tighten in my chest.

"Come with me." ...

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