By Friday afternoon, the winter sun had retreated behind a thick blanket of slate-gray clouds, casting a somber, muted light across the snow-covered valley. Inside the cozy breakfast parlor of Hawthorne Manor, a crackling fire in the corner hearth provided comforting warmth as Claire sat at the round mahogany table, a pot of Earl Grey tea cooling beside her laptop. Her phone buzzed against the table with an incoming FaceTime…
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