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... ghts weren't blinding—just warm enough to blur the edges of the world into something softer, something quieter. Claret and amber banners stretched along the back wall like a stitched memory of the club's heart, framing the small, intimate setup: two chairs, one small table between them, and the hum of cameras somewhere just out of frame.
Jake stood beyond the glass panel off to the side, arms crossed loosely as he watched. It wasn't his interview, but tonight, everything mattered. Every ...
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