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... ed. I slipped into a fitted pencil skirt and crisp white shirt, pairing them with fishnet stockings and sleek red stilettos—armor for the war ahead I guess. Olivia had gone to the hospital to stay with Mom, while Michael—useless as ever—stayed home, likely glued to the couch.

The sun was blinding as I stepped outside, but it wasn't the heat prickling my skin that unsettled me—it was the day ahead of rather it was the memory of his voice the previous day, low and taunting, like he'd alrea ...

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