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I went to check on her.
The bathroom door was open. Empty.
I kept walking. My husband’s study door was ajar. I pushed it open.
Olivia stood inside with her back to me, phone held high, taking pictures of the desk, the drawers, the documents on the table.
“Olivia.”
She spun around, startled. Her face went pale for a second, then she regained her composure.continue reading …
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