I bought an antique mirror at a Newport flea market, but my reflection stopped moving and wrote "Save me" in blood—uncovering my cousin's $18M old-money crime.
👉 Previous Decision: You witnessed Julian’s arrest and social excommunication.
Four hours later, at 11:30 PM, I returned to my quiet studio. The Atlantic ocean outside murmured against the shore, a steady, rhythmic sound. The silence was profound, but this time, it was a peaceful quiet.
My phone, which had been a constant source of anxiety, now showed welcome alerts. My business operating accounts, once frozen, were fully unfrozen. National press reports, already circulating, had not only restored my professional reputation but elevated it. My self-made status, once a weakness Julian tried to exploit, was now seen as a testament to my integrity.
The original 1954 codicil, the proof of a forgotten injustice, rested safely in an acid-free legal folder on my desk. It would be delivered to the state public trust in the morning, fulfilling Genevieve Montclair’s true wishes.
I walked over to the antique mirror, now securely mounted on my brick studio wall. The ornate frame, the very object that had triggered this entire ordeal, seemed to hum with a different kind of energy. The bloodstain was gone, cleaned away by Marcus’s careful hand, but the history remained.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 16 to continue the story
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