The Shadow of Solomon
I remember the first time I saw Solomon. He didn't walk into a room; he occupied it. He was a man of tailored charcoal suits and a gaze that could strip a person's secrets bare in a single glance. When he hired me, I was a twenty-two-year-old with a law degree and a desperate need to be seen. "The law is not about justice, Alan," he told me on my first day. "The law is a language. And if you...
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