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Chapter 45: A Fate Worse Than Death
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... height.
Lucas sat at the small table by the window, elbows propped neatly, spine perfectly straight—as if posture could make order out of chaos. Outside, the gardens gleamed beneath the late light, arranged in precise symmetry. Nothing about them was natural.
His tea had gone cold. Again.
He hadn’t touched the agenda in the last ten minutes. The leather cover sat open, a thin pen slotted into the crease, hovering between pages. On the left-hand sheet, his own handwriting ...
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