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“It’s time,” I whispered when the line connected. “Please come.”
Victor noticed too late, lunging forward just as I ended the call, yanking the phone from my hand. He stared at the dark screen, then back at me, confusion flickering across his face.
I met his gaze, my breathing shallow but steady. “Someone you should have been kinder to,” I said.
They didn’t help me up. Instead, they argued—about lawyers, about timelines, about how quickly they could move once they had control. Renee talked about selling what little I had left, Victor speculated about declaring me unfit, their words circling above me like birds waiting for something to finish dying.
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