The Bridal Suite Alibi

The heavy oak door of the Presidential Suite didn't just close; it sealed with a finality that tasted like copper and panic. Elena Vance stood in the center of the cream-colored expanse, her pulse thrumming against the stolen folder clutched to her chest. Inside were the forged invoices that had effectively ended her career and, if the rumors were true, would soon end her freedom. Outside, the rhythmic thud of security boots hit the hallw

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