The Golden Suspect
The ledger weighed three pounds, twelve ounces, and six grains. I counted the entries by hand, my fingers tracing the indented ink, feeling the cold brass of the ruler against the table’s grain. It was November, 1912, and the air in the Mint’s restricted archives tasted of dust and old fear. I had spent six months trying to clear my name, to prove that the Gold Hoard theft was not the work of...
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