The Golden Greenhouse
The rain hits the ledger room with a sound like coins dropping on stone. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two, and you are wet to the bone. The estate is dying, a Victorian carcass leaking its history into the floorboards, and you are the junior archivist tasked with selling the only thing left that has value. The greenhouse. It stands in the back garden, a cage of green-tinted glass that hums when...
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