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Eighteen: Fingertips on Fault Lines
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2025-06-11 15:30:08Lillium Roosevelt
"Did you have a nice visit?"The words were quiet.Too quiet.And yet they hit like a strike to the chest. My carefully constructed facade crumbled, the lies I'd been weaving for weeks unraveling with terrifying speed.I stood frozen in place, watching his back. He was silhouetted against the moonlight filtering through the leaded glass windows, a dark, imposing figure. Every breath suddenly too loud in my own ears, a frantic drumbeat against the oppressive stillness.He knew.He definitely knew. The subtle shift in his posture, the deliberate pause before speaking, the very air around him crackled with a knowledge that pierced my carefully constructed defenses.But I couldn’t speak. My throat had gone dry, the words I desperately needed to form trapped and useless. I'd rehearsed this moment a hundred times in my head, imagined pleading, explaining, even lying. But now, faced with the reality o
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The Billionaire's Sunshine Thirty-Five: What Remains in the Past
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