The Distant Summer
"You're holding the door open for the wrong people, Arthur," said Julian, his voice smooth as polished stone, drifting across the manicured lawn of the Whitmore Estate. "They aren't guests. They are liabilities. And liabilities, my dear old friend, do not fit into a legacy." Arthur stood at the threshold of the grand conservatory, the heavy glass panes reflecting the midday sun in a blinding,...
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