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He shut the door in my face during a storm and left me shivering outside. Then my billionaire grandma showed up, saw me soaked to the bone, and calmly said to her assistant, ‘Call demolition. This house ends today.’

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The next morning, Michael walked into the kitchen in his robe, coffee mug in hand, whistling like nothing happened.

He didn’t know I was gone.

Didn’t even bother checking.

I watched him from Eleanor’s car—tinted windows parked just down the street. My hands were warm now, wrapped around a porcelain mug of tea. Eleanor sat beside me, pristine and focused.

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