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... s owned by the Salvador conglomerate, Blake sat behind a sleek mahogany desk, dressed in a sharply tailored dark suit. His expression, as always, was unreadable, stoic, composed, like a man who’d seen too much and trusted too little.

One of his younger operatives, Marcus, entered the room, looking unsure.

"Sir," Marcus said, offering a tablet. "You asked for the morning update on Madam."

Blake raised an eyebrow but took the device. On the screen was a series of timestampe ...

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