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... t away, murmuring into his phone like he was organizing an assassination.

Every few seconds, he’d glance—no, glare—at Victor like he was already planning how to fit him into a duffel bag.

Father wasn’t helping either. He stood beside Damien, whispering things in his ear like a mob boss giving instructions to his favorite hitman. And judging from the way both of them kept stealing glances at Victor, I was pretty sure they weren’t planning a welcome party.

Nope. Definitely ...

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