The Ashworth Deception
The Ashworth Deception ACT I The fog clung to London like a shroud that morning, thick and yellowish, the sort that seeped through wool and settled into bone. Eleanor Hartwell pulled her collar higher and quickened her pace along Russell Square, her boots striking the cobblestones with the heavy, deliberate tread she had practised in the mirror for three weeks. Her shoulders were squared...
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