Chapter Content
Augusta stood trapped at the foot of the grand staircase, her enemies assembled before her, her escape routes sealed. But the most terrifying sight of all was her husband, Henry, awake and aware in his wheelchair, his eyes fixed on her with a cold, clear light she had not seen in months.
He looked away from her for a moment, his gaze shifting to the man standing faithfully behind his chair. "Mr. Prescott," Henry said, his voice weak from disuse but steady and firm.
"Yes, Baron?" Prescott replied, his tone respectful.
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