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Shattered Trust

My heart pounds against my ribs as I press myself against the cold brick wall beside Cartier. Through the pristine windows, diamonds sparkle like trapped stars under carefully arranged lighting, but my attention is fixed on something far more precious – and potentially more devastating.

Callum's tall frame bends over a display case, his familiar gesture of running fingers through dark hair betraying his nervousness. The stunning blonde beside him points at various rings, her perfectly manicured nail tapping the glass as she speaks animatedly. Each tap feels like a hammer blow to my chest.

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across Bond Street, but the darkness growing in my heart feels far heavier. I'm intimately familiar with this scene – the secretive meetings, the nervous gestures, the guilty glances. James had worn the same expression when he was shopping for jewelry with his mistress two years ago.

*Not again. Please, not again.*

My enhanced werewolf hearing picks up fragm
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