The Golden Suspect
The fracture in the glass of the conservatory door was not a clean break but a spiderweb of white veins that spread across the pane like a frozen map of a river system, and it was into this intricate, shattering geometry that seven-year-old Julian Hawthorne pressed his small, trembling hand, feeling the cold bite of the winter air seep through the fissures into his palm. He stood alone in the...
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