The Golden Maze
The signature line sat at the bottom of the contract, a thin black scratch on heavy cream paper, waiting for the ink that Elias Thorne’s hand refused to provide. He stood in the center of the Meridian Hall, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the metallic tang of the golden chandelier hanging above them. It was a beautiful light, that chandelier, a cage of prisms and gold leaf...
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