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Burning Passion: Love Never Die

And then their hands found each other in a subtle yet profound connection.
“Aisha.” His murmur held a weight of realization, an unraveling truth echoing
through his consciousness.

“Leon, I'm Millie.” She gently withdrew her hand, a step backwards. “Is sorrow
your specter, conjuring phantoms?”

No, hallucinations did not cloud his senses.

In this ephemeral juncture, Leon's phone resonated with an urgent melody—a
call from Claudia.

“Got it.”

Leon concluded the call by ending it. Claudia had implored him to return.
Witnessing Millie's cautious retreat, a chasm of ache formed in his chest, a
whisper of regret tracing its contours.

The recollection surfaced of Millie kneeling before him, a memory intertwined
with his forceful demand for her to exchange Lois. Placing a pen at her throat, he
aimed to coerce Marcus into releasing Fiona from his grasp.

Such a ludicrous spectacle.

While Leon fixated on Millie, agony painted across his gaze, her own unease
began to burgeon.

Angela's Library

“I shall take my leave,” Millie declared, a waiting taxi becoming her escape
vessel.

However, Leon refrained from intervening; he merely observed as the car
departed. Once the vehicle had faded into the distance, he proceeded to unlatch
his car door and enter. One cigarette succeeded another, a series of bitter
inhalations punctuating the farcical nature of his existence.

“Boss, are you alright?” inquired Leon's assistant upon arrival. Noting the
discarded cigarette butts strewn across the ground, the assistant became privy to
the relentless smoking, as if each puff were an enactment of his lung's
preordained folly. Igniting yet another cigarette, the interior of the car swiftly
became veiled in a cloud of smoke.

Perplexed, the assistant grappled with uncertainty. Could Leon's profound
distress be attributed to Fiona's demise?

Overwhelmed by a sense of empathy, the assistant found it difficult to witness
their highly esteemed boss in a state of despondency. After pondering for a while,
a decision crystallized: it was time to inform Leon that Fiona was not, in fact,
Aisha. His sorrow need not be carried to such an extreme.

“In actuality, I neglected to apprise you that our investigation had determined
Fiona to be an incorrect lead in your pursuit. She is not Aisha. Rather, she is an
imposter who underwent plastic surgery,” the assistant revealed.

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Leon's hand, which clutched the
cigarette, trembled, his emotional
fragility laid bare by the quiver. “Why
have you chosen this juncture to
disclose such crucial information?”

he questioned, his tone a blend of
puzzlement and reproach. The

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“On that particular day, outside the
restaurant, Millie arrived with a stack

of documents, aiming to substantiate
Fiona's negative character. In a fit of
anger, you discarded those

documents in a nearby trash bin.
However, I was struck by a curious
notion and retrieved it. Among those
documents were the check-in

records of Fiona and Giovanni. Upon
examination, I determined them to be
authentic. Subsequently, I dove

deeper into the matter and

uncovered evidence that Fiona had
undergone facial plastic surgery. Her
appearance had changed

significantly from before, Leading me

to conclude that she couldn't

possibly be the person you've been
seeking. I believe this might be an
opportune moment for you to break

free from your past. Fiona’s true

nature is far from virtuous, and I am
confident that upon recognizing this,
any attachment to the fake Aisha

would inevitably give way to
disappointment. Thus, this could

serve as a catalyst for you to finally

let go of your pursuit of Aisha.” The
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Leon exerted pressure on the smoldering cigarette against his palm. Witnessing
this, the assistant was consumed by fear and instinctively dropped to their knees.
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“Boss, I'm at fault. If you need to take

it out on someone, let it be me.

Please, don't harm yourself.

Regardless of the punishment you

deem fit, 'UL willingly accept it.” The
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“You truly are an exceptional assistant,” Leon remarked, his gaze fixed on the
seared mark on his palm, accompanied by a bitter smile.

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