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... re grey, and inside were expensive furniture, scattered cologne bottles, and designer jackets hung carelessly, it was a space that mirrored Ace himself: a privileged brat.
Lilac let go of his arm and drifted toward the window, her fingers brushing lightly against the silk curtains. She stood there in silence, her back to him, her posture fragile and contemplative.
Ace flopped onto the couch, tossing his phone aside with a dramatic sigh. "She’s insufferable," he muttered. "Always ...
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