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Chapter 32: The Cost of Protection
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Chapter 34: Noah and his Antics
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... acing through memories I’d spent three years trying to bury in therapy sessions and work and anything that would keep me from thinking about what I’d done.
I pulled into my penthouse garage and took the private elevator up to my apartment, standing in the middle of my living room and looking at everything I’d built. It was all cold perfection—expensive furniture that no one ever sat on, art that no one ever looked at, windows that overlooked a city I barely saw. Everything here was dead ...
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