The Golden Downtown
The emerald brooch lay in a circle of dust on the kitchen table, its fragments arranged like a shattered star map. Elias held the largest shard, the weight of it a cold anchor against his trembling palm, while the clock on the wall ticked with a rhythm that seemed to sync with the erratic spasms of his hand. He was thirty-four years old, an architect whose career had ended in public disgrace,...
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