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... his one felt heavy, like it was sitting on everyone’s chest.

You could hear chairs creaking slightly, the restrained shift of movement, the smallest breath.

And at the center of it all, Isabella sat like she had all the time in the world. Her drink rested in one hand, fingers tapping gently against the glass. No rush. No kindness.

Then she stood again. Smooth, unhurried.

She didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t ask questions.

She just started walking.

Th ...

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