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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN

In the cramped living room of their temporary apartment, Deborah Martyn paced back and forth, the soft thud of her footsteps the only sound cutting through the room. Her arms were crossed tightly, and her brow furrowed in frustration. It had been days since they had been forced out of Miles Empire, and the sting of that betrayal still burned deep inside her.

“I cannot believe this,” Deborah muttered, shaking her head, her voice sharp with anger. “One minute, we’re in the boardroom, part of the future of the company, and the next—boom! We’re tossed out like old furniture, without so much as a decent explanation.”

Vera Martyn, seated on the edge of the small couch, stared out of the window, watching the quiet street below. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers loosely intertwined. Unlike Deborah, her reaction had been quieter, more subdued. Yet, the weight of everything still hung heavily in the room.

“They didn’t give us a choice,” Vera spoke softly, her words steady but tinged with sad
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