After all, Dad was an Edward, and Granddad, and so on. I come from a long line of Edwards, each more Edwardian than the last.

So when Dad turned out to be a violent drunk, just like his dad, and so on back down the Edward line…well, it made my silly name a very sensible course of action. And when I finally snuffed the old man out for his crimes, made it look like an accident, there was even more to be afraid of.

I’d seen what Edwards could do.

I’d seen what Edwards were capable of.

I couldn’t let myself be on the receiving end of that. So an Edwardphobe I was, and an Edwardphobe I remain.

They all must die.

And I will be the last.

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