At six o'clock on Saturday morning, the low roar of the Chicago wind outside the penthouse sounded like the hum of an approaching storm. Chloe stood by the kitchen island, wearing a charcoal cashmere sweater and tailored leggings, watching the electric kettle heat water for a Chemex pour-over. The front foyer door opened with a soft electronic click. Daniel stepped inside, carrying a leather weekender bag. He looked clean-shaven, his…
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