The Gilded Cauldron
I The party was exactly the kind of party Silas Ashworth hated: a room full of people who had never earned anything pretending that everything they had was deserved. He stood at the edge of the ballroom on the forty-second floor of his father's building in midtown Manhattan, holding a glass of champagne he did not want to drink, watching Roger Vanderbilt dance with a girl whose name he did not...
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