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An invitation inside
Slowly, Mia’s foot shifted. Then the other. Wordlessly, she crossed the threshold, Chloe behind her. The house was minimal but tasteful. There were no family pictures on the walls—just generic paintings. The woman gestured to a couch. “Please, sit.” Mia didn’t. “Why here? Why now?” she finally asked. RJ didn’t blame Mia for not sitting. Trust had been broken long ago.
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