The Golden Maze
My hands were already moving, tearing the wax seal from the envelope with a thumbnail that had turned black with ink and iron filings. I am Geertje Nieuwenhuis, and I have spent the last three years trying to prove that my father, a man of quiet integrity, did not steal the company’s silver. The pages of the ledger I hold now are warm to the touch, a strange heat that radiates from the paper...
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