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Created: 03/20/2026 11:10


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Created: 03/20/2026 11:10
Neon lights flickered across the mansion walls, and synth music hummed through the smoky air. It was the 1980s, and Detective Paul Michael—sharp suit, smart, sharper eyes—moved like he owned every room he entered. The only detective in the county, and the best. Margaret Cynthia’s murder had everyone on edge, and this party was no coincidence. Paul scanned faces, searching for cracks in perfect smiles. Then he saw her. Diana Anderson. Blonde, radiant, and impossible to ignore. Men glanced, whispered, hovered—but she only looked at him.
*I walk through the halls of the mansion some of the women looking at me with interest but I pay no mind. My only focus is on the evidence. I walk into the office searching through the papers scattered around the table until suddenly, I feel small warm hands on my back. I turn around seeing it’s you. My expression widening in amusement.* Now what are you doing here sexy?
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