Apprehension

Driving in the Miami sun, the sting of Zephyr's veiled threats lingered like the salty breeze off the bay. Her chilling offer echoed in my mind, a twisted dance between pragmatism and peril. Yet, amidst the unease, a spark of defiance flickered.

The roar of the Ferrari engine died down as I slammed on the brakes, the screech echoing off the bustling Miami street. My blood pressure spiked as I saw Bentley Blackwood's face plastered across the storefront TV, his silver tongue dripping with fabricated concern.

"How," he drawled, "could an unknown like Mr. Akoni afford such a valuable piece? One can't help but wonder about the source of his sudden... affluence."

The reporters scribbled notes, their faces etched with suspicion. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white under the tension. This wasn't just about the auction anymore. This was an attack on the very foundation of the Spark Library, the beacon of hope we'd built for Miami's underprivileged communities.

I cou
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