The Gilded Silence (V-02)
The champagne in the crystal flute was a pale, shimmering gold, mirroring the artificial light of the Waldorf-Astoria ballroom. Around me, the air was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and the desperate, manic energy of a city that had forgotten how to sleep. It was 1924, and New York was a fever dream of jazz and gold, a place where you could buy a soul if you had enough credits in...
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