"You know of me."

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2026-06-05 22:50:16 -

"You know of me."

The gallery on Berkeley Square smelled of turpentine and ambition. Vivian Grey stood before her latest canvas, studying it with the critical eye of someone who had been painting since she could hold a brush. The painting was disturbing—beautiful in the way that a wound is beautiful, or a face in death is beautiful. It depicted a woman seated before a mirror, but the reflection showed not her...

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