OLIVIA The sleek black SUV returned in record time, the driver smoothly dropping off a massive bag of gourmet takeout from *La Grenier*. The food was neatly packaged in heavy parchment paper, still steaming and smelling beautifully of white truffle, fresh basil, and garlic. "This is honestly obscene," Freya muttered happily, unboxing a flawless truffle chicken panini that would have taken a normal customer forty-five minutes of waiting to secure. "I feel like a corporate queen." "Get used to it," I smiled, sipping a bottled water as I watched the two of them finally eat. For the rest of their lunch break, the conversation flowed with a beautiful, uninterrupted ease. We laughed until our sides ached, recounting old memories and filling in the massive gaps of the last five years. Sitting in that quiet, sun-drenched courtyard, surrounded by the laughter of the sisters who had known me before the world tore me apart, I felt a profound sense of healing. The shadow of Switzerland, the
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