CHAPTER THIRTY-THREETHERAPYI cannot believe, for the life of me, that I am actually sitting here. A slow breath leaves me as I take in the woman across from me, my gaze drifting briefly around her office before settling back on her face.The space itself is exactly what I expected. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a sweeping view of New York City, minimalist décor that somehow still screams expensive, every detail curated to project elegance and calm.Harper Lee sits across from me, composed and observant, her posture relaxed in a way that feels intentional rather than casual. She looks to be in her late thirties, not quite intimidating and definitely the kind of person who clearly knows how to handle clients who come in already resistant. Which, unfortunately for her, is exactly what she is dealing with right now.“Mrs. Washington,” she says again, her voice steady, pulling my attention back when I realize I have been staring past her rather than at her.I shift slightly in my
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