The Ledger of a Monster
I remember the first time Marcus Thorne looked at me not as a human, but as a tool. It was a Tuesday in November, and the rain was turning the New York pavement into a mirror of charcoal and neon. I was his chief of staff, the man who handled the "unpleasantries." For seven years, I had been the architect of his ascent. I had leaked the documents that destroyed his rivals, I had bribed the...
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