The Pale Verdict
The ledger lay open on the desk, its spine cracked, the leather worn soft as old skin. Elias Thorne stared at the first page, where the ink had faded to a ghostly gray. He was a forensic accountant for the Department of Corrections, a role that required a steady hand and a steady silence. The office was cold, the kind of cold that settled in the bones before the heating kicked in. Outside, the...
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