Golden

The roar of the Ferrari faded into the Miami morning as I stared after Bentley's receding golden blur. His words echoed in the air, a jarring note disrupting the melody of peace I'd painstakingly constructed. Zephyr using me? The very notion sent a fresh wave of doubt crashing through me, its discordance threatening to drown out the hopeful strains that had begun to play.

Returning to the car, a strange sense of exhaustion settled over me. The exhilarating freedom of the drive earlier had vanished, replaced by a suffocating weight. Bentley's proposal, though unexpected, offered a path forward, a melody of revenge against Zephyr's betrayal.

But the thought of aligning with Bentley, my arch-rival, felt like a betrayal of the principles I'd clung to. We were two sides of the same coin, both driven by ambition, both seeking a crown tarnished by ruthless tactics.

As I navigated the remaining stretch back to the penthouse, the discordant notes reached a crescendo. Redemption seemed furthe
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