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raising her phone.
Not high.
Not obvious.
Just enough.
Recording.
Of course she was.
The humiliation of it moved through me like heat.
Not because I was embarrassed in front of them.
That part had burned out overnight.
Because even now, even in this, Brooke wanted performance value.
She wanted a clip.
A little private trophy of me cornered and upset so it could continue reading …
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