She began to circle around me slowly, her heels tapping rhythmically against the floor. Each step felt deliberate, calculated, like a predator toying with its prey. The constant motion started to make my head spin. “Would you stop pacing?” I said, my voice edged with irritation. “You’re making me dizzy.” She paused briefly, then placed her left hand across her stomach as if steadying herself, while her right hand lifted into the air, almost theatrically. Her posture changed, like she was about to deliver a grand speech. “You know,” she began, her tone smooth and deliberate, “people talk about the tycoon’s children everywhere, social media, television, newspapers… you name it.” She started walking again, slower this time, her gaze drifting as though she was reliving every detail. “They talk about how these mysterious children control their father’s empire remotely,” she continued. “The Williams family… praised, admired, speculated about. Some say the children are brilliant, e
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