A Bodyguard For The Misogynist
Then it clicked.
Anna.
Her name, her file, her history. Every detail I had glanced at before suddenly made sense. She was the same woman—the new bodyguard for the estate. The one who had walked into my life unexpectedly. My lips curved into a small, dark smirk. This is going to be interesting.
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The hours that followed crawled, punctuated by small interruptions: calls, briefings, and minor inconveniences that should have been trivial. And yet, every minute, every second seemed stretched taut, a reminder that something in the day felt off.