The rain arrived on a Tuesday in November, thick and insistent, the kind that makes you question every decision that led you to this moment.
The rain arrived on a Tuesday in November, thick and insistent, the kind that makes you question every decision that led you to this moment. Emily Ashworth questioned it then. She stood at the gate of Blackwood Manor, her trunk at her feet, her gloves soaked through, watching the house rise from the Yorkshire moors like a dark argument against the sky. It was large, cold, and exactly as her...
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