The Pale Garden
The water rose to Elara Vance’s ankles, cold and black with silt, as she waded into the flooded basement of the estate. She clutched a waterlogged ledger to her chest, its pages swollen and illegible, the only tangible proof she had that her father’s death had been an accident rather than the calculated sabotage of Julian Thorne. The air was thick with the smell of wet plaster and rot, a scent...
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