The Golden Visit
The air in the conservatory was thick, heavy with the scent of rotting jasmine and the stale sweetness of wine that had gone flat. It was a glass-walled tomb, suspended in the heart of the estate, where the winter rain hammered against the panes like a thousand impatient fingers seeking entry. I stood at the far end of the room, my hands trembling so violently that the silver tongs slipped from...
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