The Golden Song
Thorne, you’re going to ruin the closing, are you? The solicitor’s voice was thin, stretched tight over the phone line, carrying the specific, brittle irritation of a man who had already calculated the commission he was about to lose. Elias stood in the center of the study, the air in the room thick with the smell of salt rot and old paper, and he watched the heavy oak ledger on the desk. It...
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