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... a plate of half-eaten smoked salmon, paralyzed by the sheer, shimmering audacity of Cyan’s offer.

The reception hall was a blur of expensive perfume, clinking crystal, and the soft, mocking strings of the quartet, but all I could hear was the ringing in my ears.

"I can take him off your hands."

My rational brain... the part of me that still valued things like self-respect, a stable heart rate, and not being treated like a sentient pet... screamed at me to take the deal. ...

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