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... portrait.

"That would be my father," came a voice from behind—deep, assured, composed.

Miles and Celina turned toward the source.

Standing at the entrance of the hallway was Victor Wraithbourne.

He wore a charcoal gray mandarin-collared suit, sharp but not flashy. His posture was firm, shoulders square, and his presence filled the room with quiet authority. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back neatly, and a short beard, carefully trimmed, fra ...

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