Three weeks after the Tokyo defense contracts were ratified, a soft, drizzling April rain fell over the boulevards of Paris, washing the limestone facades and blooming chestnut trees along Avenue Montaigne in fresh, dewy scent. In the master suite of the Avenue Montaigne penthouse, Sienna woke up with an unusual, fluttering wave of nausea in the pit of her stomach. She sat up on the edge of the mattress, pressing…
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