Maybe it’s his loss. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. I find you were excessively brave, mon pauvre. I suppose you have come to see your granddaughter. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. Anna lied to you, I lied to you.
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