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The morning after I sent the email, a cold rain fell over Paris.
I was in my office at the Sterling branch, on a secure video call with Arthur.
On the screen, the old man looked tired, but his eyes were sharp.
“A public settlement conference?” he repeated my words, his fingers drumming on his walnut desk. “Harper, this is risky. Julian’s lawyers will do everything they can to stop him from admitting to anything that could make him the ‘at-fault’ party.”
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