Direct confrontation
I drove directly to his house and marched up to his flat with a certain aim in mind. No more games and no more delays. I pressed the doorbell and waited, tapping my foot impatiently. The door creaked open, and there stood my brother, looking bewildered. Before he could speak, I entered. “We need to talk about Cassie,” I announced. He nodded, recognizing the urgency in my tone.
Direct Confrontation
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