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                                        Chapter 113: Wanting Answers
                                
                                                                                        
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                                        Chapter 115: Heritage
                                
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... r, well—he kind of does. But it’s in a backward kind of way.
"Hello, Ms. d’Armand." Marcus Ashby wipes down the seat in my room, as if it’s full of incurable diseases. The sharp smell of antiseptic wafting from his sanitizing wipes makes me sneeze.
"Hello, Mr. Ashby."
Marcus perches on the edge of the sanitized chair like it might bite him. His perfectly pressed suit doesn’t have a single wrinkle. "It’s good to see you’re doing okay, Ms. d’Armand."
"Okay is a bit ...
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