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Then he turned and saw Gideon, stepping out of the car with Arabella on his arm. And his face went pale.
Holding a framed photo of Gideon’s father, I stepped out of the crowd, pressed the remote, and the projector switched on.
As their elegant couple’s photo was changed, Arabella’s carefully applied makeup seemed to crack.
"What the hell is happening?!" she shouted, fuming.
I do not look back after the hotel vanishes behind the bend of the coastal road. The Gulf Shores night slides past the …
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