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... elicate hush of porcelain and banter, but something more precise—contained, professional, edged with the scent of old paper, ink, and the faint citrus of whatever diffuser Serathine insisted on using in formal spaces. The kind of quiet that filled rooms where decisions were made without raising voices.
Lucas sat in one of the low-backed chairs near the window of Serathine’s private office. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in filtered light that cast pale lines across the dark wood o ...
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