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Jun 06, 2026
Wesley didn't follow them. He couldn't. His legs, usually the first to charge into a boardroom, felt like lead. He watched as the red, blue, and yellow raincoats faded into the neon blur of the Fifth Avenue traffic. The girl in yellow—the one who had held up a mirror to his soul—looked back one last time, her expression not of anger, but of a quiet, unnerving judgment.