The late afternoon sun had softened into a muted gold as Juliette stepped into her boutique, the familiar scent of lavender and cedar-wood surrounding her like a fragile shield. Outside, the city buzzed with indifferent energy, but inside, a heavy silence settled, wrapping around her like a second skin.She’d spent the morning lost in a swirl of unease, a message still fresh and puzzling in her mind: Meet me at the café. I have information you need. – C.Celeste Whitmore. Damon’s fiancée. The woman who, until now, had seemed a distant, untouchable figure, the silent adversary in the shadows of Juliette’s fractured past. And yet here she was, asking for a meeting, promising knowledge about Damon’s accident and his lost memories. A truce, perhaps, or something more complicated.The thought of facing Celeste stirred a thousand conflicted emotions within Juliette —fear, resentment, suspicion. Yet beneath it all, a deeper truth pulsed stronger than any pride: she needed answers. For Mason’
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