The Golden Suspect
The door closes behind you with a soft, definitive click, sealing off the noise of the street and leaving you in the sterile silence of the corridor. You are standing in the lobby of the Grand Meridian, a place that used to smell of old leather and pipe tobacco, now scentless, scrubbed down to the bone by the new management. You are the Head of Procurement, a title that used to mean something,...
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