With Elias gone, Marcus felt a dark, thrilling rush of ownership. The house was his prize.
He moved through the silent rooms, already mentally liquidating its assets—the ornate clock, the Persian rugs, the grand staircase.
He immediately called a realtor, arranging a viewing within the hour, lying without hesitation that he was the owner to expedite the sale. His new life, built on this betrayal, felt tantalizingly close.
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