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CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHLOE'S POV

My eyes, heavy with exhaustion, bore the weight of countless tears shed. Streaks of sorrow stained my cheeks, silent witnesses to the anguish within. Hands trembling uncontrollably, I found myself seated at the breakfast table, my gaze fixed vacantly on the steaming cup of coffee before me.

My hair, tousled and unkempt, bore witness to the chaos within. Despite Aspen's attempts to send attendants to groom me, I adamantly refused, shooing them away. In that moment, I found solace in my natural appearance, devoid of any desire for makeup.

Grief consumed me, fueled by thoughts of vengeance against Alistair. As I gazed at the bread knife lying beside the mug, the image of him lying in a pool of his own blood played out in my mind repeatedly.

Aspen had fulfilled his promise by sheltering me in one of his hotels. To ensure my comfort, he provided me with a phone and a prepared card. Despite his assurances that the card contained no tracking device and he had no interest in monit
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