The Wistful Asylum

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2026-08-22 11:38:57 -

The rain lashed against the leaded panes of the study, a rhythmic drumming that seemed to synchronize with the frantic scratching of my pen on the legal pad. I was thirty-two, and the weight of the Whitmore estate had settled onto my shoulders like a physical burden, heavier than the oak desk beneath my hands. Father had been dead for six months, and the medical bills for his final year of...

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