The Golden Greenhouse
The contract is on the desk, the ink still wet, smelling of iron and old paper. You are Elias Thorne, forty-five, and your hands are shaking not from fear but from the cold that has settled into your bones since the last frost. You sign it because you have no choice. The Blackwood Sanatorium offers a pension, a final guarantee, if you can contain the Golden Fever in Patient Zero. You believe in...
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