The Wistful Saga
The chandelier in the grand hall of the Ashworth estate swayed gently, casting fractured diamonds of light across the faces of the guests who had come to consume what remained of Thomas’s life. Elara stood near the center of the room, her hand resting on the back of a velvet chair, her knuckles white. She was forty-two, though the lines around her eyes suggested a woman who had seen more...
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