The Golden Suspect
The leather of the ledger cracked under Elias Thorne’s thumb as he turned the page, the dry rasp of the binding echoing in the stone silence of the garrison office. He counted the columns again, the ink faded by years of damp, his breath held tight in his chest as he calculated the deficit. Twelve shillings and four pence. That was the sum that stood between his son, Thomas, and the inheritance...
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