The Golden Suspect
The glass walls of the fourteenth floor did not reflect the city; they trapped it. Elias Thorne sat in the center of this sealed cube, the air conditioning humming a low, mechanical drone that vibrated in his teeth. He was thirty-two, an actuary for the Meridian Pension Trust, and he was broke. The spreadsheet on his monitor was a labyrinth of numbers, a cold, sterile grid where millions of...
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