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The Letters I Never Wrote

It was the delivery system for it.

He zipped the bag shut.

Neither brother slept the rest of that night.

Chapter 7 — Daniela Barlow

By nine the next morning Ezra was sitting across a desk from a woman named Daniela Barlow, an attorney a neighbor had pointed him to, who handled the kind of quiet property fraud that eats families from the inside.

She read for a long time without speaking, laying the forged letters side by side, comparing the signatures against a sample of Ezra’s real one, studying the authorization form and the dates.

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