It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. Michelle laughed, saying that she could only guess. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. "To shoot you would be to lose the reward.
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