That evening, just as Nora hung up from yet another frustrating client call, she pressed her aching temples, trying to will away the tension building behind her eyes.Then her phone rang again.It was an unfamiliar number. She hesitated for a moment before answering.“Hello, Nora Yates?”The voice on the other end was one she’d know anywhere—smooth, taunting, laced with smug amusement. It was Gillian.Nora’s stomach dropped. “Gillian? What do you want?”“Oh, nothing much,” Gillian drawled, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. “I just heard your little studio’s been running into some trouble. Thought I’d check in—see if you needed a hand.”She gave a light, condescending laugh. “After all, Eric and I were engaged once. I’d hate to see the two of you running yourselves into the ground.”Nora gripped the phone tighter, forcing her voice to stay calm. “We can handle our own problems. Thanks, but no thanks.”“Can you, though?” Gillian’s tone turned silky, dragging out each word. “
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