The Golden Maze
The champagne flute slipped from Elias Thorne’s fingers, shattering against the marble floor with a sharp, crystalline crack that cut through the ambient hum of the gala, and he did not flinch, his eyes fixed on the heavy oak doors at the far end of the ballroom where he knew Clara was waiting, not for a toast, but for the final signature on the divorce papers he had tucked into his breast...
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