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"Julian, let me toast to your success," Nathaniel Vance said, raising his glass with a fawning smile.

Julian Thorne’s lips curled into a polite, dangerous smile. "On the contrary, Uncle Nathaniel, it is I who should toast to you. After all, I owe so much to your—and Sarah’s—care all those years ago."

His gaze flickered over Sarah, dark and unreadable, before he drained his glass