The Golden Farce
The crystal chandelier above Elias Thorne swayed, casting fractured light across the marble floor of the estate’s grand hall. He stood at the center of the gathering, a senior actuary in his forty-second year, his eyes fixed not on the champagne flutes or the smiling faces of the partners, but on the heavy, velvet drapes that seemed to pulse with a faint, metallic rhythm. His father, Arthur,...
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