The Starward Investment

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2026-05-29 07:37:35 -

The jazz band at the Cotton Club was playing something that sounded like hope when I got the call. It was October 1925, and New York was drunk on prosperity—stock prices climbing like ivy, speakeasies packed past capacity, everyone convinced that the good times would last forever. I knew better. I had always known better. Silas Winterhope was thirty years old when the world offered him...

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