The Weight of a Secret
The autumn of 1892 in Paris was a season of gold and decay. Madame Claire’s townhouse on the Rue de Rivoli was a place of suffocating elegance, where the scent of stale lilies and expensive wax clung to the heavy damask curtains. Claire was a woman of iron will and velvet words, the matriarch of a family whose name was a currency in the salons of the Third Republic. Isabelle had entered the...
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