Adrienne Cole published at six in the morning.Sienna was awake when it happened, sitting at the kitchen table with coffee she had made at five because sleep had become impossible somewhere around three, her laptop open, watching the Tribune's website with the focused patience of someone who had learned that the most significant moments were almost always quieter than you expected them to be.The article appeared without announcement.No breaking news banner. No push notification. Just the piece, appearing on the website the way pieces appeared, and then within minutes the specific acceleration of something that had been waiting to move, social shares and reposts and the first calls from other outlets requesting comment, the quiet ignition of something that had been nine years in the making and was now, finally, burning.She read it once.Then she called Dante.He answered on the first ring which meant he had not been asleep either. "I know," he said. "I've been watching.""It's good,
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