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... ?"
Jonathan paused mid-sip of his wine, lifting his gaze to the woman seated across the dining table.
A glamorous woman tilted her head, cupping her face as she leaned forward. Her eyes swirled with curiosity, glancing up at him.
"Why do you hate your... uncle?" she asked, her voice laced with deep intrigue.
Jonathan smirked and chuckled, setting the wineglass down. "What makes you think I hate my uncle?"
"You don’t?"
"I don’t like him, but that do ...
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