Anna's POV
I stared at the six-digit number on that small note card, my brain racing through possible combinations until everything suddenly clicked. Wait a minute—that was my birthday.
Catherine's eyes widened with recognition. "Hold on, isn't that your birthday?" She examined the card more closely, her perfectly manicured nail tapping against the paper.
Catherine leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Interesting that my uncle would send me a company opening gift with your birthday as the passcode." Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "He probably doesn't even remember his own niece's birthday, but somehow remembers yours perfectly."
Her implication hung in the air between us. I shifted uncomfortably, desperate to change the subject before others noticed my reaction.
"The property is right across from the Financial District," I said quickly.
"Marcus is really looking out for your business interests."
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