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Chapter 33
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Chapter 35 (r18)
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... ging just past the broken doorbell. The hotel lobby was barely more than a chipped counter and a bored clerk who didn't ask for IDs, just handed over a brass skeleton key with the number "503" scratched into the tag with what looked like a nail. It was the kind of place that didn't log names, didn't record hours. Just rooms and silence—or what passed for it.
The fifth floor smelled faintly of disinfectant and something sweeter, muskier beneath it—old perfume soaked into wallpaper. Oliver ...
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