The Golden Ritual
The ledger on the mahogany desk was not merely a record of transactions; it was a map of the soul, and Thomas Bradshaw had spent thirty years redrawing its lines with the precision of a surgeon and the vanity of a king. He sat in his office at the Whitmore Financial Group, a room that smelled of old paper, polished wood, and the faint, metallic tang of high-stakes anxiety. The glass walls of...
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