Damien found out about the coffee on Tuesday morning. Not because Aria told him—she had forgotten about Victor Hale's card entirely, focused on her mother's remarkable response to the new immunotherapy at St. Mary's—but because Damien Steele lived in a fortress of surveillance and digital paranoia. "Shut the door, Aria." The command came from behind his basalt desk. Aria paused in the doorway of his office, holding the morning foreign…
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