Two days later, in the sunlit parlor of the Greenwich estate, Marcus Vance sat in the large leather armchair beside the fire. In his arms, wrapped in a hand-knitted ivory blanket, slept two-day-old Thomas Vance. The formidable Wall Street titan, who had commanded corporate boardrooms for half a century, looked down at his great-nephew with tears glistening in his eyes. Elena and Adrian sat together on the sofa beside him,…
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