The Faded Paradox
The rain in Boston was a gray sheet that blurred the edges of the St. Jude Institute, a glass and steel monolith that loomed over the harbor like a hospital for the soul. Elias Thorne pulled his coat tighter, the wool damp and heavy, as he stepped out of the taxi. He was forty-five, a man whose hair had begun to thin at the temples, carrying a leather briefcase that felt heavier than its...
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