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... scalpel, dissecting me without so much as a twitch of her fingers.

"Who are you really?"

My muscles coiled beneath the mask.

I had known this would happen eventually—Evelyn wasn't the type to ignore an inconsistency, and the sudden appearance of Mr. Dust was more than enough to raise alarms. But she hadn't outright accused me. Not yet. She was testing the waters, seeing how I'd react.

That meant I had time to maneuver.

I tilted my head slightly, just enoug ...

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