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Chapter 63: Heaven Should Be Afraid
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Chapter 65: Pillows, Banners, and the Letter of Doom
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The grand Duclair estate, normally a haven of refinement and soft music, was currently shaking at its marble roots.
Somewhere between war and weeping.
Because Lucien Rynthall—noble rare male omega, bearer of fury, storm in silk—was now curled in the embrace of a woman with graying hair and diamond-dagger eyes.
Countess Isadora Duclair, the terror of teas and the undefeated queen of upper-crust rage.
Lucien clung to her like a lifeline, face buri ...
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