The Golden Harbor
The champagne in Elias Thorne’s hand was not merely cold; it was a liquid mirror of his own impending fracture, the bubbles rising with a frantic, arrhythmic urgency that matched the erratic thumping in his chest. He stood at the edge of the banquet hall in the penthouse of the Whitmore & Associates tower, watching the city lights smear into long, golden streaks through the floor-to-ceiling...
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