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Chapter 65: Awfully familiar
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Chapter 67: Simple coincidences?
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... weren’t on, but because she preferred it that way. Soft, moody lighting that masked the fury always simmering just beneath her meticulously composed surface.
Tonight, it boiled over.
She sat, stiff-backed in her favorite green velvet chair, eyes cold and glassy like polished jade. The small tumbler of scotch in her hand trembled from the sheer force of her grip. Her immaculate, crimson nails bit into the crystal, leaving faint crescent marks.
Across from her, Betty stood ...
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