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PROLOGUE

The artist is the creator of beautiful things.

Oscar Wilde.

LONDON, ENGLAND

April 7, 1890

Basil Hallward’s studio was filled with the rich fragrance of freshly cut red roses his dutiful butler had picked up for him from the florist this morning. The light summer wind stirred in the trees in the master’s garden, and through the door came the welcoming of the lilacs’ sweet perfume. Basil loved to surround himself with such beautiful things. His sudden disappearance several years ago caused such public excitement and gave rise to so many outlandish assumptions.

Now he had been working on an important painting so he could reemerge himself back into the art world. He was genuinely proud of this one piece. So elated he even invited his very good friend, Lord Henry Wotton, to be the first to gaze upon to what Basil would think to be his magnum opus. Lord Wotton was also an admirer of beauty and, at the moment, was groveling over the portrait Basil had done. The painting was of a young man in his early twenties, and he was very handsome.

JOHN GRAVAGLIA

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