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... p ache twisted through his stomach, forcing a low groan from his throat. He pressed a hand to his abdomen, his other hand gripping the armrest as sweat beaded along his brow.

’I should’ve eaten something,’ he thought, regretting skipping his breakfast.

He gritted his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain. His mind drifted to Zara—how she always gently reminded him to keep his medicine within reach in case of emergencies, tucked neatly in the drawer beside his desk.

He ...

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