The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-24 17:03:18 -

The champagne in the crystal flute was cold, but Arthur Vane felt a heat rising from the soles of his shoes, burning through the leather of his oxfords into the polished marble floor of the Royal Exchange. It was 1904, and the air in the newly inaugurated hall was thick, not with the scent of the vintage, but with the dry, metallic taste of old paper and damp stone. Around him, the dignitaries...

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