The Golden Suspect
The letter lay on the desk, the ink still wet and glistening like a fresh wound in the parchment, and Elias Thorne did not read it because he already knew what it said, having watched Clara pack her single suitcase with the methodical, cold precision of a woman dismantling a marriage she had outgrown. He was a historian of the Imperial Archives, a man who believed that the past was a fixed...
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