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Eighty

The night air inside the mansion was cold and heavy, filled with silence and emptiness.

Thalia sat quietly in the large office, the slow ticking of the wall clock echoing against her thoughts. George sat across from her at first, both of them saying nothing for several minutes.

The tension between them was thick enough to choke on.

He looked up finally, his gaze locked on her face, but she didn’t meet his eyes. Her fingers played with the hem of her blouse as she exhaled slowly, ...

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