The bells of St. Allaric Church chimed slowly and heavily, echoing like a cold reminder: if there was still time, turn back. Clarara Ren walked along the long, desolate stone path, her hands hidden in white gloves trembling slightly, the veil before her swaying gently with each breath. The sound enveloped her, seeping into the silent space and weighing heavily on her chest – where unease had already taken root. No eyes escaped her. Some looked with indifferent pity, others as if relishing a pre-arranged tragedy.

Twenty years old. Too young to stand in this sanctuary. Too young to be a pawn for mistakes that weren’t hers. Whispers crept through the pews, cold as a draft: a girl traded away before she even had a chance to live for herself. Clarara lifted her head. She refused to look down.

She wouldn’t cry. At least not here, not in front of them. Despite the candles burning everywhere, the church exuded an invisible chill. The pale blue light from the stained-glass windows fell onto the stone floor, making everything seem like a distorted, alien dream. Outside, a thick November mist obscured the windows, as if even the sky had turned its back on this ceremony. In her hands, the bouquet of white roses drooped, a few petals silently falling to the stone floor – a wordless farewell to dreams that never had the chance to materialize.

No one needed to say anything. This had never been a marriage of love. This day was etched in her mind by her father’s debt, cold and unforgiving, like a sentence that would last a lifetime for Clarara.

---

Chapter 1: The Death Bell for Youth
The bells of St. Allaric Church rang slowly and heavily, each chime like a hammer pounding on Clara Ren’s thin chest. The sound carried no joy of a wedding; it was a chilling warning, a choked cry for help in the vast space filled with the scent of incense and decaying wood.

Clara walked down the long cobblestone path. Her hands trembled beneath her white silk gloves, her veil shaking with each ragged breath. Each step on the cold marble echoed with a dry, harsh sound, seeping into her flesh where fear had reigned for months.

All eyes were on her. The eyes of New England’s upper class – where honor was measured by bank accounts and mistakes were concealed by marriage contracts. Some looked at her with blatant pity, but others gazed with cruel curiosity, as if admiring a beast brought to the slaughterhouse. No one turned away. They wanted to witness firsthand the downfall of a young lady from the Ren family.

She was only 20. Too young to stand here, amidst the dark oak seats and emotionless statues of saints. Too young to be traded away like a debt paid with silk and vows. Whispers spread through the rows of seats like a cold November wind.

“Poor child.” “Sold before she could live.” “Arthur Ren finally found his way out with his own flesh and blood.”

Clara held her head high. She clutched the bouquet of white roses in her hand – the flowers drooping in the oxygen-deficient air, petals separating and falling to the floor like a silent farewell to the dreams she had once cherished of true love. She wouldn’t cry in front of them. She wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing a broken soul.

The blue light from the stained-glass windows shone down on the floor, making everything seem distant and unreal. Outside, a thick fog obscured the world, as if even the sky didn’t want to witness this dirty deal.

Chapter 2: The Owner of Darkness
At the end of the hall, Julian Vane stood waiting.

He was 38 years old, the most powerful man in New York’s venture capital world, known as “The Devil’s Debt Collector.” Julian wore a pitch-black tuxedo, his face sharp as if carved from granite, and his eyes the color of ash. He didn’t look at her with desire, nor with respect. He looked at her like a predator looking at a bargain-priced asset.

Her father’s $50 million debt – Arthur Ren – had etched this day into her life with cruel clarity. Arthur had squandered the family fortune on shady oil and gas projects and political gambles. And to save his last shred of honor, he had sold his daughter to the man he feared most.

As Clara approached Julian, the coldness emanating from his body sent a shiver down her spine. Julian didn’t take her hand; he simply stared at the elderly pastor holding the Bible with trembling hands.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pastor began, his voice hoarse. “We are gathered here to witness the union of Julian Vane and Clara Ren…”

Clara felt her throat dry. She glanced at the front row, where her father – Arthur – sat. He dared not look his daughter in the eye. He bowed his head, his hands clasped tightly together, sweat beading on his forehead. His cowardice hurt her more than Julian’s cruelty.

Chapter 3: The Climax – The Cursed Vow
“Julian Vane, do you agree to take Clara Ren as your lawful wife? To love, to protect…”

“Stop,” Julian abruptly interrupted the pastor.

The church fell silent. The sound of breathing seemed to vanish. Clara spun to look at him, her heart pounding. Had he changed his mind? Had he realized she wasn’t worth $50 million?

Julian didn’t look at her. He turned around, facing the entire congregation, and slowly pulled a dark black envelope from his inner pocket.

“I think we should skip this false vow,” Julian said, his voice echoing throughout the vaulted ceiling of St. Allaric Church. “Everyone here knows this is a transaction. And as a transaction, the terms must be transparent.”

He stared intently at Arthur Ren. Arthur had now jumped to his feet, his face pale. “Julian… what the hell are you doing? We had an agreement!”

“We agreed that I would pay off your debt in exchange for your daughter,” Julian smiled, a smile devoid of any warmth. “But there’s one thing I haven’t told you. I never buy something without checking its origin.”

Julian opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of documents. He held them up high.

“The $50 million debt that Arthur Ren used to force his daughter to marry me… wasn’t actually due to business losses. For the past six months, I’ve hired a team of forensic accountants to trace it. That money was transferred by Arthur into…”

“A secret account in the Cayman Islands under the name of his young mistress.”

Whispers erupted like wildfire. The pitying glances directed at Clara now turned into disgust for Arthur.

“But that’s not all,” Julian stepped down a aisle, approaching Arthur. “Arthur, you told Clara that her mother died of a terrible illness and left an empty fortune. But the truth is, she left a $100 million trust to Clara, and you are her sole guardian.” He squandered all that money, and to cover up the embezzlement, he fabricated this debt scheme to shift the debt onto me, hoping I would never let her touch the family accounts.”

Chapter 4: The Twist – The Truth Beneath the Wedding Veil
Clara stood frozen. The bouquet of white roses fell to the stone floor, the petals crumbling at her feet. She looked at her father – the man who had raised her, the man she had once intended to sacrifice her life to save.

“Dad…is this true?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Arthur Ren slumped into his chair, his mouth stammering incoherently. The truth exposed in St. Allaric’s chapel was like a death sentence for his lies.

But at that moment, Julian turned to look at Clara. He moved closer to her, and for the first time, she saw a strange glint in his ash-colored eyes.

“Clara,” Julian said, his voice lowered, Just loud enough for two people to hear. “I didn’t buy you from your father. I bought back all of Ren Group’s debt from other creditors three months ago.” “I’m not here today to marry a debt.”

He took her hand, his hands surprisingly warm.

“I’m here to give you back your power.”

Julian produced another piece of paper – an emergency arrest warrant signed by the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office and an agreement to transfer all the seized assets.

“I’ve arranged for the police to wait at the back gate of the church,” Julian said to Arthur, his eyes sharp. “Your trust fund embezzlement and financial fraud case will begin immediately after this ceremony ends… or there will never be a ceremony.”

It turned out that Julian Vane – the man the world considered a debt collector – had spent the past six months investigating Clara’s mother’s case. He wasn’t the one who bought her; he was the one who had meticulously planned to destroy Arthur Ren and seek justice for the only woman he ever respected: Clara’s mother, the former teacher who had once saved her life. He was a poor orphan in the Bronx when he was a child.

Chapter 5: The Extreme Climax – The Purge at St. Allaric
Arthur Ren panicked, intending to rush to the back window, but Julian’s plainclothes security officers quickly stopped him. The crowd of guests was now in chaos. The scene of a wedding turning into a crime scene had become more chaotic than ever.

“Julian! You can’t do this! I’m his father!” Arthur yelled as he was handcuffed in the middle of the church.

Clara stepped forward. She removed her veil, revealing a delicate face, now bearing an unprecedented firmness. She looked at the man who had betrayed her, the man who had used his daughter’s pity to cover up his own guilt.

“You are not my father,” Clara said, each word echoing sharply throughout the church. “My father died with my mother the day you began betraying her.” “From now on, the name Ren will no longer be a burden to me.”

She turned to Julian. “You did all this… for my mother?”

Julian looked at her, a rare smile appearing on his lips. “She was the only one who believed I could become a good person. I owe her a promise that her daughter would never have to suffer.”

Julian took out his diamond wedding ring. “Now, Clara, we are no longer bound by debt. All the assets belong to you.” “You can walk out that door, start a new life, and no one can stop you.”

He stepped aside, yielding the long, cobblestone aisle to her.

The entire church watched in silence. Clara gazed at the large doors of St. Allaric, where the mist was slowly dissipating and the weak winter sunlight was beginning to seep in. She could leave. She could be free.

Chapter 6: The Symphony of a New Beginning
Clara looked down at her hands, then at Julian. He was a demon in everyone’s eyes, but the most ruthless guardian angel she had ever had. She knew that if she walked away, she would be safe. But she also knew that the world outside would try to devour her again if she didn’t have a strong enough ally.

Clara didn’t walk out the door.

She took the ring from Julian’s hand.

“Everyone is here for a wedding,” Clara said, looking directly at the stunned crowd of guests. “And they will have…” “A wedding. But not a submission. An alliance.”

She placed the ring on her ring finger.

Julian was stunned. He had never considered this option. He thought she would hate him for having witnessed the humiliation of her family.

“I won’t start a new life by running away,” Clara whispered to him. “I will catch.”

“I will end it by standing beside the only one who dares to burn this whole world to protect me.”

The bells of St. Allaric Church rang again. But this time, their sound was no longer heavy. It was light and clear, echoing through the fog, signaling to the entire city that: An old empire had fallen, and on its ashes, a new dynasty of Julian Vane and Clara Ren had officially begun.

Arthur Ren was led out through the back door in utter humiliation. The guests, their curiosity turning to awe, rose in unison as Julian and Clara emerged from the chapel.

Outside, the November fog had dissipated. The New York sky opened wide and was full of sunshine. The white rose petals that had fallen on the church floor now looked like footprints of a past left behind. Clara was no longer a debt. She was the master of her own destiny.

---

My son said casually, “From now on, my wife’s parents will be taking your bedroom. Pack your things and sleep in the basement—or move out.” I didn’t argue. I quietly left and canceled every payment I’d been covering. The next morning, the doorbell rang nonstop—and there he was, sounding completely different…

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Chapter 1: A Cold Shower in the New York Summer
The Tudor mansion in Scarsdale was once my pride and joy, Elena Vance. I spent thirty years working on Wall Street, sacrificing sleep and vacations to build this empire. After my husband’s death, I poured all my love and fortune into Julian, my only son, hoping he would carry on the family’s pride.

But that June afternoon, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became thicker and colder than a snowy winter.

Julian stood there, wearing the expensive suit I had bought him for his promotion, but his face held a terrifyingly unfamiliar expression. Beside him was Monica, his ambitious new wife, who always looked at me like a piece of old furniture to be discarded.

“Mother,” Julian said casually, his eyes never leaving his glass of deep red wine. “Monica’s parents are moving here from Florida. They’re getting old and need care. From now on, they’ll be in Mom’s master bedroom. It’s spacious and has the best garden view.”

I froze, the silk scarf in my hand almost falling to the floor. “What do you mean, Julian? That’s been Mom’s room for the past twenty years.”

Julian shrugged, his tone as cold as a business deal: “Mom, you should be realistic. You’re alone, that room is a waste. Pack your things and sleep in the basement – ​​it’s cool and quiet there. Or if you’re not comfortable, you can move out. Maybe a small apartment for the elderly would suit you better.”

Monica smiled, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You know, family is about making sacrifices for each other.”

I looked at my son—the one I’d stayed up all night caring for when he was sick, the one I’d used every connection to get into his current position as vice president of the bank. My heart didn’t break. Instead, it turned to stone. A terrifying composure enveloped my mind.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. I just nodded slightly.

“Okay. I understand.”

Chapter 2: The Hunter’s Silence
I went upstairs, not to pack down to the basement, but to pack what truly belonged to me. I only took a small suitcase containing important documents, a few mementos, and a photograph of my late husband.

As I walked past the living room to the door, Julian didn’t even look up. He was engrossed with Monica discussing repainting my room according to her parents’ wishes.

“Where are you going, Mom?” Julian called out when he heard the door open.

“Mom’s just taking a walk to get some fresh air,” I replied calmly.

I stepped out of the house, feeling the summer heat on my face. I drove straight to the Ritz-Carlton hotel in downtown Manhattan. In the presidential suite overlooking Central Park, I opened my laptop.

Decades of working on Wall Street had taught me one thing: Power isn’t about shouting, it’s about numbers.

Julian thought he owned that house. He thought he was running his own luxurious life. He forgot that every bill, from the mortgage on the mansion, his and his wife’s premium health insurance, the down payment for his future child’s tuition, to the credit line for the startup he was running… all were connected to the trust account system I controlled.

I clicked on my bank management page.

Order 1: Cancel automatic payment authorization for the Scarsdale apartment mortgage.

Order 2: Terminate utility services (electricity, water, high-speed internet) at the home address.

Order 3: Freeze all supplementary credit cards in Julian and Monica Vance’s names.

Order 4: Withdraw all angel investment from Julian’s tech company under the pretext of “changing personal asset strategy.”

I watched the screen display: “Transaction successful.” I turned off my computer and treated myself to a glass of Champagne. Julian wants me to sleep in the basement? Let’s see where he’ll sleep when his financial “basement” collapses.

Chapter 3: The Night of a Shameless Empire’s Collapse
The next morning, at 7 a.m., my hotel room doorbell didn’t ring, but my phone exploded with hundreds of notifications.

7:15 AM: 15 missed calls from Julian. 7:20 AM: Ten frantic text messages from Monica. 7:30 AM: An urgent email from the bank notifying me of Julian’s overdue debt.

I leisurely ate breakfast with eggs Benedict and read the Wall Street Journal. I waited. I knew exactly what was happening at that mansion.

At this time in Scarsdale, the shower had probably stopped running. The air conditioning was off in the 95°F New York heat. Monica was probably furious about her credit card being rejected at the fancy cafe. And most importantly, Julian had probably just received a notice from the company’s board of directors that their operating funds had vanished overnight.

At 9 a.m., the doorbell rang incessantly. Not the polite knock of room service. It was a frantic, desperate pounding.

I opened the door.

Julian stood there, but no longer the arrogant vice president of yesterday. His suit was wrinkled, he was drenched in sweat, and his face was pale.

Like ashes.

“Mom! What have you done?” His voice was completely different – ​​no longer arrogant, no longer the nonchalant air of someone holding the power of life and death. It was the voice of a lost child, trembling and full of humble pleading.

“Hello, Julian. Aren’t you home to greet your parents-in-law?” I smiled politely, stepping aside to let him in.

Chapter 4: The Climax – When the Mask Shatters
Julian burst into the room, breathless. “Mom, all my cards are frozen! The bank just called saying the house will be foreclosed if I don’t pay the $50,000 debt immediately. And my company… the investors are pulling out because they heard you withdrew your capital!”

“So what, son?” I calmly sat down on the sofa, clasping my hands together. “Didn’t you tell me I should move out? I’m just doing it as thoroughly as possible. When I move out, my money moves with me.”

“You can’t do that! We’re family!” Julian yelled, but his voice sounded empty.

“Family?” I laughed coldly. “Is family when you make your mother hide in the basement to make room for strangers? Is family when you treat your mother a financial burden while you’re living off her every penny?”

Just then, Monica ran in. She was no longer her usual elegant self. “Elena! Are you crazy? My parents are on their way. We have no electricity, no water, and the bank is trying to repossess my car!”

I looked at Monica, then at Julian. This was the moment to deliver the decisive blow.

“Monica, do you want to know a secret?” I said, my voice low and mysterious.

Both of them fell silent.

“Julian doesn’t own anything. That mansion is registered under a trust fund, and I’m the sole beneficiary. My son is just a ‘tenant,’ paid for free by my permission. And Julian…”

I turned to my son. “Your vice president position? It’s not based on your abilities. I’m the largest shareholder in that bank through an intermediary. They hired you because I committed to maintaining a $100 million balance in their account. This morning, I transferred that money to a rival bank.”

Julian collapsed onto the carpet. His eyes were filled with utter horror. He realized that his entire life over the past ten years had been nothing more than a castle built on sand by me.

Chapter 5: The Twist – The Truth About the “Basement”

“Mom… I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’ll tell Monica’s parents to stay at the hotel. Please go back to the master bedroom. Please, save my company…” Julian sobbed, trying to grab my hand.

I stepped back, my eyes filled with contempt.

“Do you think I want that bedroom, Julian? Do you think I care about this dilapidated mansion ruined by your greed?”

I pulled out another financial report.

“This is the truth, Julian. For the past ten years, you’ve been secretly siphoning off your father’s trust funds to invest in illegal cryptocurrency projects. Do you think I didn’t know? You wanted me to go to the basement not for accommodation, but to keep me away from the safe in the study – where you hid the contracts with my forged signature.”

Julian froze. Monica looked at her husband in disbelief.

“It turns out you’re not just an unfilial child, you’re a criminal,” I said, my voice as sharp as steel. “I didn’t call the police immediately because I wanted to see how you would treat your mother when you thought you had the upper hand. And you’ve given me the answer.”

Chapter 6: The Dawn of Freedom
My phone rang again. This time it was my private lawyer.

“Mrs. Elena, the police and bank representatives are at Scarsdale. The seal has been executed. Julian and Monica have one hour to retrieve their personal belongings.”

I looked at Julian. He wasn’t crying anymore. He was staring into space, knowing his future was over.

“Go, Julian,” I said softly but firmly. “You have 60 minutes to move your things into the basement you prepared for me. Or you can move out onto the street. As you said – I should be realistic.”

Julian and Monica quietly left the room. Silence enveloped the luxurious hotel.

I stepped out onto the balcony, looking down at the bustling New York City. I didn’t feel sad. I felt relieved. Ten years of sheltering a child who refused to grow up was over. From now on, Julian would have to learn to become a person on his own two feet. If he survived, perhaps one day he would understand the value of “family.”

And me? I had spent my life building futures for others. It was time for me to live for myself.

I picked up the phone and called the travel agency. “Book me a flight to Switzerland. The earliest possible. And this time, I won’t be bringing anyone.”

The only basement remaining was the buried past. Before me lay the bright, sunny sky of freedom.

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In the middle of Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law raised her glass and smiled: “I’m proud of all my grandchildren… except one.” Then she pointed at my nine-year-old daughter. Some laughed, as if it were a joke. I saw my little girl struggling to hold back tears. My husband didn’t laugh. Silently, he placed a thick folder on the table. When they began to leaf through it, the laughter died away, the glasses fell still, and the air grew heavy. No one was prepared for what those pages revealed.

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Chapter 1: The Poisoned Wine
Greenwich, Connecticut, on Christmas Eve was a perfect stage for opulence. Thick snow fell outside the windows, blanketing the old pine trees, while inside the Sterling mansion, flames from the fireplace danced on expensive silverware and porcelain.

I am Elena, Julian Sterling’s wife. The Sterling family represents everything Americans crave: money, power, and a clean reputation built over generations. But beneath that glitz, they are cold-blooded sharks.

My mother-in-law, Beatrice Sterling – the “Queen” of the family – rose at the head of the table. She wore a deep red velvet gown, her neck adorned with a pearl necklace worth a mansion. She raised a glass of sparkling champagne, a smile that I always found to be like a silk-bladed knife.

“In this warm atmosphere, I wish to raise a glass to the growth of our family,” Beatrice said, her voice echoing throughout the room. “I am truly proud of all my grandchildren… those who bear pure Sterling blood.”

She paused, her sharp gaze suddenly shifting toward my nine-year-old daughter, Lily, sitting beside me.

“Except for one.”

She pointed her diamond-ringed finger directly at Lily. “A frail child, lacking in character, and, frankly, always a blemish in our otherwise perfect family photos. Lily, you should perhaps learn to accept that not everyone is born to stand at the top of the pyramid.”

A few of Julian’s uncles chuckled. They took it as a quirky joke, a sharp rebuke typical of Beatrice. Lily lowered her head, her small hands clutching the tablecloth tightly, her shoulders trembling as she tried to suppress her sobs.

I was about to stand up, my anger blazing like fire, but Julian placed his hand on my shoulder. He didn’t look at his mother. He stared into the distance, his eyes chillingly cold.

Chapter 2: The Gray File
“Mother is right,” Julian said, his voice calm and flat. “It’s time we talked about who truly deserves the name Sterling.”

Beatrice smiled triumphantly, convinced her son was siding with her to get rid of the “incompetent child.”

But Julian didn’t raise his glass. He bent down and pulled a thick, unlabeled gray file from under the table. He placed it on the rotating table, right next to the steaming turkey.

“Christmas is a time to pay the debt of truth,” Julian said. “Mother, this is your gift. And everyone’s here.”

He pushed the document toward his mother. Beatrice raised an eyebrow, her hand slowly turning the first page. But the moment her eyes met the words and pictures inside, her smile froze.

The laughter from the relatives died down. Beatrice turned the next page, then the next, her hand trembling, causing the champagne glass in her other hand to tilt and fall onto the marble floor.

Crash!

The sound of shattering glass ripped through the silence. The air became so heavy that one could almost hear the snow falling outside.

Chapter 3: The Climax – The Skeletons in the Glass Case
The curious relatives leaned forward, passing around the torn pages of the document. Some women covered their mouths in horror, while the men’s faces were ashen.

Julian rose, walking slowly around the dining table.

“The first page is the DNA test results for the entire third generation of the Sterling family that I secretly collected,” Julian said, his voice ringing out like a judgment bell. “Mother prided herself on ‘pure blood,’ huh? It turns out, Mark’s two children are actually the children of the former gardener. And Mark, you know that? You’ve been using them to siphon money from the family’s education fund for the past five years.”

Mark slumped into his chair, sweating profusely.

“Next,” Julian pointed to a stack of black-and-white photos. “It’s the file on Uncle Thomas’s hit-and-run accident ten years ago – the one the family paid $2 million to cover up. I’ve found witnesses, and they’re ready to testify.”

Beatrice gritted her teeth: “Julian! You’re ruining this house! Are you insane?”

“I’m not crazy, Mother. I’m just doing a ‘settling account,’” Julian approached his mother, lowering his voice but loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “But the best part is at the end of the document. That’s why you always hated Lily. Why you always called her ‘the blemish.’”

He flipped to the last page – an old, yellowed hospital report dated 40 years ago.

Chapter 4: The Twist – The Greatest Deception
“You always insulted Lily because she didn’t resemble the Sterling family at all. You said she was a genetic defect,” Julian smiled bitterly. “But the truth is, you’re the one who doesn’t have Sterling blood.”

The room shook. Beatrice shrieked, “Nonsense! I’m the wife of the late chairman!”

“Yes, you’re Father’s wife. But this file shows the true heir of the Sterling family – the only son.”

“My parents’ child – who died just two hours after birth due to heart complications. My mother was so terrified of losing her status as Mrs. [the mother] that she conspired with the doctor to swap her with another newborn from a poor family in New Jersey that very night.”

Julian paused, pointing to himself.

“That child is me. I am not a Sterling. You are not my biological mother. And according to my grandfather’s original will, if there is no direct heir, the entire estate will go to national charity. You built an empire on a lie, and you used that very lie to humiliate my daughter.”

Beatrice sat motionless, her eyes showing an extreme emptiness. All the relatives – those who had just mocked Lily – now realized that they too were merely parasites on a rotten tree.

Chapter 5: The Final Judgment
“Julian… why did you do that?” “He’ll lose everything too!” Uncle Thomas stammered.

“I’ve been preparing for that for a long time,” Julian said calmly. “I’ve used all the assets in my name to set up a new fund for Lily and Elena. As for this house, this Sterling name… you can keep it. But from tomorrow morning, when these reports are sent to the prosecutor’s office and the tax office, it will be nothing more than a tomb.”

Julian turned to me and Lily. He gently lifted her up.

“Let’s go. Dinner’s over.”

We walked out of the room filled with stunned silence, leaving behind broken wine glasses, untouched turkey, and a family crumbling in the face of its own cruel reality.

Stepping out the door, Lily looked up at Julian, her eyes now dry. “Dad, where are we going?”

Julian looked at the white snow in front of him, a relieved smile on his face: “We’re going home, Lily.” “A true home, where there is no pure blood, only love.”

The author’s concluding remarks: That Christmas in Greenwich held no magic, only the administration of justice. Sometimes, to protect a green shoot, you have to cut down an entire rotten forest. Beatrice Sterling spent her life pointing out the faults of others, forgetting that she herself was the biggest “blemish” on the tapestry of her family’s destiny.

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