The phrase repeated in my head: “She’s never been wrong before.” It was as if it was a mantra, an assurance they clung to amidst uncertainty. But I needed more than assurances. I needed proof.
I decided to visit Cassandra myself. It was a long shot, but I had to try. I called Emily and asked her to set up a meeting. She hesitated but eventually agreed. “I’ll text you the address,” she said reluctantly.
The address led me to a modest house in a quiet neighborhood. As I approached the door, I felt a mixture of anticipation and skepticism. I knocked, and a woman in her late forties answered. Her eyes were a deep, piercing blue, and there was an air of mystery about her.
“You must be Emily’s sibling,” she said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Come in, I’ve been expecting you.” Her voice was calm, yet it carried an authority that was hard to ignore.
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