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... and had Isla Griffith’s address pulled up within minutes. His driver sped across the city.
"President Lancaster, we’ve arrived."
Adrian stepped out, expression arctic, presence suffocating. He looked nothing like a man who’d been drinking for hours.
He entered the elevator alone and watched the floor numbers climb. His reflection stared back at him from the polished steel doors—jaw set, eyes glacial.
Tonight, I’m bringing her home. No more games.
DING. Th ...
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