The Cellar of Whispers

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2026-05-29 06:45:44 -

I. The summons arrived on a Tuesday, embossed with the crest of St. George's Club—gold leaf on cream cardstock, the kind of thing that made Arthur Blackwood's fingers tremble before he even broke the seal. He read it three times, each reading confirming what he had spent six months trying not to believe: they knew he had the ledger. Lord Harrington's handwriting was unmistakable, even...

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