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... ter Ethan left.
It was not the gentle hush of morning, but a strange, ringing silence that pressed against my ears.
I lingered in the kitchen long after the door clicked shut, my gaze fixed on the empty chair where he had been.
Daniel’s footsteps echoed upstairs, the sound of running water drifting down, blissfully unaware of the storm that had just been set loose inside me.
My eyes drifted to the table where the diary lay.
Margaret Lockwood’s diary.
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