Blood on the Bluff

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2026-05-26 13:43:35 -

The DuBois plantation smelled of decay and jasmine, which was fitting, because it was both beautiful and rotten in equal measure. Silas DuBois had spent twenty-five years walking these grounds, watching the cypress trees groan under the weight of Spanish moss, watching the paint peel from the porches like sunburned skin. He was the family waste. The disappointment. The second son who had been...

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