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... nlan stopped in her tracks, hands dug into her pockets, squinting her eyes.
"Excuse me, are you Ms. Nathalie Quinlan?"
The butler, probably in his sixties, had his white hair combed back, wore a well-tailored suit, and stood ramrod straight with a polite expression on his face; he didn’t seem like someone there to start trouble.
Nathalie’s gaze carried a nonchalance: "Yes, that’s me."
"It’s good that you’re Ms. Quinlan; I was worried I had the wrong person." The b ...
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