The Golden Suspect
The winter of 1893 settled upon the village of Oakhaven not as a silence, but as a heavy, golden weight that pressed against the glass of every window, turning the world outside into a still life of amber and rust. Inside the Whitmore residence, a manor house that had seen better decades and likely more honest tenants, the air hung thick with the scent of damp wool and the faint, metallic tang...
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