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Chapter 83: The Convention IV
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Chapter 85: The Convention VI
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... egoistic prick.
Where had he appeared from? What hole had vomited him out?
When she had looked at the Whitman’s booth earlier, she hadn’t seen him. Not even when the designs of his company had been shown.
So, where exactly had he been then? Smooching some jeweler in the restroom?
She watched placidly as he stepped forward, making the room stir again, tension shifting, recalibrating.
And what was he about to do? Defend his company?
She wouldn’t put ...
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