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CHAPTER 90

Alex

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Good mornings filled the air as I walked to Mr. Watson's office. Getting home after my mother called me yesterday, she told me Damien had resumed working for the company. The bastard had started playing his card. My chest tightened, not with discomfort but annoyance—it would take grace and mercy not to lunge at him.

Not everything could be solved with violence; mentally, I chided myself.

Turning the doorknob, I pushed the door open.

Mr. Watson's eyes flicked to mine before his usual cunning smile formed on his lips. “Good morning, Mr. Dawson. What brings you to my office?” His eyes gleamed like he was expecting me.

He must have heard the news about Damien; he must have anticipated this.

“Good morning, Mr. Watson.” I strode to the visitor's chair and dropped into it. Leaning back into the leather chair, I crossed my feet—ankle to knee. “You must have heard about Damien.”

“He’s resuming work today,” he responded, his eyes glued to the stack of paper before him. “I also heard
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