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... d herself to vomit, her face buried against the cold porcelain. Every heave tore through her chest, until her stomach emptied itself in a bitter flood that burned her throat.

She didn’t know if it worked, if it purged whatever had been in the wine, or if it was already too late. Still, the thought of leaving it inside her was unbearable. She gagged again, pushing until there was nothing left but bile and a hollow ache.

Thankfully, she was alone. Amy had gone off to celebrate with ...

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