The Golden Mirror
The brass brooch sat on the mahogany desk like a wound that had refused to heal. It was an intricate piece, a gold filigree starburst encircling a single, deep-cut sapphire, heavy enough to dent the wood. It had belonged to Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, and now it belonged to the silence in the room. Silas, ten years old and dressed in a suit that had been let out too many times, watched the...
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