The Golden Harbor
The clock on the wall ticked out the final hour of the evening, a heavy, mechanical heartbeat that seemed to slow the flow of the wine in the crystal glasses. Elias Thorne stood by the sideboard, counting the silver spoons in the tray, his fingers cold and stiff. He needed the grant. He needed it to save Clara. The air in the hall of the Blackwood Society was thick with the scent of roasted...
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