The late afternoon sun filtered through the half-drawn blinds of Richie’s home office, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk piled with architectural blueprints. His broad shoulders strained against the fabric of his white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle from years of manual labor. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the tension from his temples, when a soft knock at the door made him pause.
“Come in,” he rumbled, voice thick with exhaustion.
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