The room bore the scars of her frenzy. Leon approached Millie, his concern surfacing. “Are you unharmed?”

Millie shook her head, stepping back cautiously. “I am intact.”

Millie entered the room, saying, “I’ll fetch the design drawing. Please wait.”

In the room, Millie rubbed her scratched arm from the carton.

Fiona teetered on the brink of madness, propelled from destitution to opulence, and now hurled back to her origins. Such a drastic shift often carried a poignant ache of acceptance.

Yet sympathy found no place within Fiona’s narrative, for her own choices sculpted this trajectory.

draft and blinked in surprise at the tidied room—Leon had

extended the draft. “Here lies the design you

the

inquired, “Why

the design, his gaze

was Flynn Davies. The name

the Thomas family, he’d donned simple black T-shirt, embroiled in brawls day by day. Over

he took on a new name and attire,

sensing Leon’s profound anguish. He believed he’d found his life’s devotion, only

some past memories is

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