A sharp ring of the doorbell sliced through the heavy silence.When Ace flung it open, a young waiter stood frozen on the threshold. He wore a crisp black suit and a stark white shirt, but his uniform couldn't mask the way his hands trembled. His face was pale with sheer terror."H-here is your ice, sir," he stammered, staring fixedly at the floor, desperate to avoid Ace’s piercing gaze."Thanks," Ace clipped out. He snatched the ice bucket and swung the door shut, cutting the boy off mid-breath.Inside the kitchen, Bella sat perched on the counter. She looked painfully small. A dark, ugly purple bruise ringed her delicate neck—a vivid mark of regret for the choices that had brought her to this place.Ace approached her, his hard expression softening just a fraction. "Here, put this on it. It’ll help bring the swelling down." He gently offered the improvised ice pack to her.Bella looked up, offering him a fragile, fractured smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her fingers shook as
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