I was pushing my limits in the studio, the scent of cedarwood and sweat hanging heavy in the air as I perfected a sequence of sharp, predatory movements. My phone, resting on a nearby bench, began to vibrate incessantly. I ignored it, focused on the extension of my stride, but the buzzing was relentless—like a persistent scavenger that wouldn't leave a kill.I paused, wiped the perspiration from my brow with a towel, and checked the screen. It was Maren Cole. Since I had already signed the exit papers with Andrew, Maren was no longer my concern; the title of "son-in-law" was a skin I was desperate to shed.I tossed the device aside, but the calls kept coming, rhythmic and demanding. With a low growl, I finally answered."Lanka, get your pathetic self over to the Hawthorne Manor this instant and deal with your mother!"Maren’s voice was like a whip-crack of pure irritation. Before I could demand a single detail, the line went dead.The Hawthorne Manor wasn't the ancestral Wolfe Crest;
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