The Wistful Mountain

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2026-08-22 08:29:28 -

The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray weeping that turned the world outside the windows of the old Ashworth estate into a blurred watercolor of slate and moss. I sat in the high-backed velvet chair in the study, the leather creaking beneath me as I shifted, my eyes fixed on the heavy oak table where the files lay scattered like the feathers of a dead bird. My sister,...

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