The Wistful Witness
The Sterling Foundation Gala was a suffocating expanse of white linen and low, conspiratorial laughter, where the air itself seemed to thicken with the weight of old money and older secrets, and Elara Vance stood in the shadow of a marble column that was, she noticed with a detached, archival precision, slowly expanding its base into the polished floor. She was forty-two, a mid-level archivist...
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