The Wistful Petal
You cannot have the ledger. The words hung in the cold air of the archive, sharp as a snapped twig. Elias Thorne stood before the oak desk of Director Halloway, his hands trembling not from fear, but from the damp chill that had seeped through his wool coat since he stepped out of the carriage. Halloway did not look up from the file he was signing; his pen moved with the mechanical precision of...
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