The Portrait on the Wall

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2026-06-02 16:20:10 -

I The letter arrived on a Tuesday, the kind of London Tuesday that felt less like a day and more like a slow suffocation. Grey fog pressed against the windowpanes of Isabella Windsor's Bloomsflat flat like a living thing, and the letter itself seemed to absorb the meagre light rather than reflect it. It was from her aunt, Lady Moriarty. The handwriting was precise, elegant, the kind of script...

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