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Standing at the entrance were two men. Unlike usual, Blake Sinclair was not wearing a tie, just a plain black shirt, with the topmost button still fastened and a pair of frameless glasses resting on his nose.
Beside him stood another man with almond-shaped eyes in a blue shirt. The two of them stood there, exuding an aura of nobility and ease.
Directly opposite them was Celia Stiles, standing at the entrance with one hand on her hip. Her fingers froze mid-air, pointing in the ...
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