The Distant Nightmare
Chapter One "Stop the feed. Now." The foreman, a man named Girard whose suit was pressed so sharp it seemed to cut the air, stood before the steam-press with his arms crossed. Amelie Moreau did not look up. Her fingers, raw and split at the knuckles, moved with a frantic precision over the ledger, trying to balance the numbers before the ink dried. The machine roared, a low, industrial thrum...
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