Chapter 119 Letters Of Fire And Forgiveness
The Blackwood library was cloaked in amber light, the kind that danced gently across the antique rugs and carved wooden shelves, casting long shadows. Damian, Isabella, and Rene sat in a triangle near the fire, a box of Juliana Cross’s letters between them.
Each envelope bore the same seal—pressed wax in the shape of a camellia. Her favorite flower.
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