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She continued, “I have no children. If something happens to me, everything I’ve built will fall into greedy hands. I want you to inherit it all — but only if you understand what that means.”
Her tone shifted — colder, deeper. “Before you go any further tonight, you must know something about my past. About my husband’s death.”
My stomach dropped. “What do you mean?” I asked.
Eleanor looked straight into my eyes. “My husband didn’t die in a car crash,” she whispered. “He was poisoned. And I was the one who did it.”
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