And then their hands found each other in a subtle yet profound connection.

“Aisha.” His murmur held a weight of realization, an unraveling truth echoing through his consciousness.

“Leon, I’m Millie.” She gently withdrew her hand, a step backwards. “Is sorrow your specter, conjuring phantoms?”

No, hallucinations did not cloud his senses.

In this ephemeral juncture, Leon’s phone resonated with an urgent melody—a call from Claudia.

“Got it.”

call by ending it. Claudia had implored him

ache formed in

demand for her to exchange Lois. Placing a pen at her throat, he aimed to coerce Marcus into releasing Fiona from

Such a ludicrous spectacle.

painted across his gaze,

Angela’s Library

my leave,” Millie declared, a waiting taxi becoming

the vehicle had faded into the distance, he proceeded to unlatch his car door and enter. One cigarette succeeded another, a series of

discarded cigarette butts strewn across the ground, the assistant became privy to the relentless smoking, as if each puff were an enactment of his lung’s preordained folly. Igniting

with uncertainty. Could Leon’s profound distress be attributed to Fiona’s

to witness their highly esteemed boss in a state of despondency. After pondering for a while, a decision crystallized: it was

apprise you that our investigation had determined Fiona to be an incorrect lead in your pursuit. She is not Aisha. Rather, she is an imposter

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