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Chapter 311

  • Minerva’s POV
  • ​The harsh click of the dead line didn't just end the call—it felt like a physical slap across my face.
  • ​I sat frozen at my illuminated vanity, staring at the darkened phone in my trembling, French-manicured hands. The heavy makeup brushes, the expensive glass perfume bottles, the luxury studio lights reflecting in the three-panel mirror—everything around me suddenly blurred into an icy, dizzying fog.
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