The Golden Circuit
The mirror, that cold and unblinking eye of vanity, had served her faithfully for forty years, yet on this particular Tuesday morning in the drafty, soot-stained corridor of the Ashworth Manor, it betrayed her with a cruelty that felt less like reflection and more like accusation, for in the glass she did not see the dignified Lady Ashworth, the matriarch of the industrial empire, but a haggard...
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