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The Truth Behind the Door
Grace stepped inside slowly. The living room smelled faintly of smoke and spilled whiskey. Tiffany sat near the coffee table, her makeup streaked from crying. A thick yellow folder lay open before her — papers scattered across the floor.
Daniel took a step forward, voice trembling. “Grace, you shouldn’t be here.”
Grace’s eyes drifted to the folder. She reached down and flipped through the documents — and felt her stomach drop.
Bank statements. Hidden transfers. Property deeds in Tiffany’s name. And on top, a prenuptial agreement — one she had never signed — stripped of every protection she once had.
It was a trap.
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