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Chapter 7: If Fate Was Kind.
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... me I was to be the heir of the Alvara family. I was twelve.
He had called me into his office — that same room that always smelled like old cigars and cedar — and said it so casually, like he was asking me to pass him a pen. "You’ll take over one day, Louis. The Alvara name will rest on your shoulders."
At twelve, I didn’t even know what "taking over" meant. All I knew was that his tone left no room for refusal.
Mother argued, of course. She said I was far too young to be ...
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