The Golden Greenhouse

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2026-08-20 10:39:18 -

The banquet hall of the Whitmore estate did not smell of roasting meats or spiced wine, but of ozone and wet copper, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a forgotten word. The chandeliers, once heavy with crystal, now dripped with a viscous, golden fluid that pooled on the marble floor in slow, shimmering lakes. Thomas Whitmore stood at the center of this unnatural feast, his hands...

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