The line of women wrapped around the block.It stretched down Fifth Avenue, past the luxury storefronts, past the tourists, past the indifference of the city. It was a river of women—young, old, professional, exhausted, hopeful.Aria stood backstage at the Barnes & Noble flagship, peering through the gap in the curtains. Her heart did a familiar stutter-step, a ghost of the old anxiety, but she breathed through it."They're waiting for you," Noah whispered. He was standing behind her, holding her hand. "Not the heiress. Not the victim. You.""It's a lot of people," Aria said."It's a movement," Noah corrected.He squeezed her hand, then let go."Go get them, author."Aria walked onto the stage. The applause wasn't polite. It was visceral. It sounded like relief.She sat at the table, a stack of To the Girl in the Mask beside her. She picked up her pen.The first woman in line approached. She was young, maybe twenty-two, wearing a hoodie that looked three sizes too big. Her eyes were r
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