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... said nothing at first. Just pushed himself up awkwardly with cuffed hands, shuffling to the window on unsteady legs. He stared out at the city, his city, once, for a full, agonizing minute. Shoulders sagged. The view that had been his throne now mocked him. Defeated. Hollow.
Then he turned, voice barely a rasp. "Fine. Not like I only own this home. And have one company."
"Ms. Anotta," I said, turning to her with a triumphant grin. "I’m no lawyer. This penthouse is mine now—can y ...
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