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CHAPTER 93

MADAME BROWNE'S POV

I swirled the wine in my glass, watching as the liquid caught the last rays of the evening sun. The balcony looked out over the estate gardens—perfectly manicured, each hedge and blossom precisely where it was supposed to be, a testament to my taste and control. There was something soothing about sitting here high above the chaos that I so ably cultivated. The world looked small from up here, manageable. Just like people.

A gentle rap sounded from the double doors behind me. I didn't turn around. "Come in," I called lazily, enjoying my sip of wine as the cool breeze kissed my skin.

The door creaked open and the sound of heels clicking announced Genevieve's entrance.

"Madame Browne," she said, her voice silky polite, just like I had trained her.

I gave a faint smile to her reflection in the glass. "Ah, Genevieve. Finally. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to walk."

She laughed softly, as if my insult were a compliment, and practically glided further into
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