Calvin Turner’s smile didn’t just fade—it fractured.
For the first time since he walked into the room, he wasn’t the one in control of the conversation.
He looked from Walter… to Frank… to Mabel… and then back to me.
“What is this?” he asked, forcing a thin laugh. “Some kind of… misunderstanding?”
“No,” I said calmly. “It’s a pattern.”
I …
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