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... rced!"

The deep, cold voice, devoid of any warmth, echoed in the silent and luxurious presidential suite.

Ming Yao was a disheveled mess, her clothes in disarray as she sprawled on the carpet. Her long, dense eyelashes slowly lifted as she looked up at the man before her.

The man must have just come from an important event. He was wearing a sharply tailored, handmade suit, crisply ironed trousers stretching over his long legs, and a dark coat draped over his shoulders, gi ...

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