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... k wood desk. The office was quiet, too quiet, but the stillness wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind that suffocated.
Aidan Wilson stared at his phone, unmoving. His fingers twitched around the device, knuckles white as if he were crushing it. His jaw clenched so hard that the muscles near his ear kept pulsing. His eyes burned with anger.
The screen displayed a photo: a small cake with strawberries on top. Homemade. Sloppy. Ugly. The caption was loud. Jarring.
RogueOv ...
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