The Distant Crown
The champagne glasses clinked with a brittle, hollow sound, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence that had settled over the boardroom at Harrowgate Manor. Elias Vane stood at the head of the long mahogany table, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the edge of the wood. He was forty-two, though the gaunt hollows of his cheeks and the fine tremor in his left hand made him look a decade...
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