The Faded Alibi
The file is not closed, Elias. Marcus places the tablet on the mahogany table. The screen glows with a cold, blue intensity that cuts through the grey light of the conference room. It is a forensic accounting ledger, dense with columns of numbers that scroll silently. The air in the room is still, thick with the hum of the HVAC system and the unspoken weight of three weeks of delay. Elias...
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