She arrived at 8:57 AM.I watched her through the café window—S. Khalil, journalist, potential threat, potential ally. She wore a gray coat and carried the same leather bag as yesterday. Her posture was different now, though. Less guarded. Like she'd already decided something.I'd decided something too.Celeste wasn't with me. We'd agreed on that last night, in the dark, when our voices were quiet enough to be mistaken for breathing. The journalist wanted me. The story lived in my chest, not Celeste's boardroom. If this went wrong, only one of us needed to be exposed."You're early," I said when Khalil sat down."You're later than I expected.""I was deciding whether to disappear.""Clearly you decided not to."I signaled the waiter. Ordered coffee I didn't plan to drink. Khalil set her bag on the empty chair beside her—deliberate, I noticed. Keeping space between us. Smart."I have conditions," I said."Name them.""First: you record everything. No off-the-record side conversations t
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