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his recent vacation to Cabo fading to something pale and shocked.
“Eleanor?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing. “Eleanor Brooks? The… the payroll girl?”
“The analyst,” I corrected, my voice sharp. “I wasn’t a girl. I was twenty-six. I had a degree in mathematics. And I saved your company.”
He let out a breath, a short, continue reading …
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