The Faded Portrait
The gavel struck the wood, a dry crack that echoed off the high, vaulted ceiling of District Courtroom 4B. Elias Thorne did not flinch. He stood at the defense table, his hands flat against the polished surface, knuckles white, watching the judge, a man named Halloway whose face was a map of bureaucratic indifference, recite the property codes. "Section 14, subsection C," Halloway droned, his...
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