The Golden Downtown
The letter from the bank was printed on heavy, cream-colored stock that felt brittle under Arthur Vane’s thumbs, the ink still wet and smelling faintly of iron and dust. It demanded payment for the debts left by Elara’s father, a sum so large it made the numbers blur into a single, jagged line of ruin, and Arthur signed it with a hand that trembled not from fear but from the sheer, mechanical...
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