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... he screen hit the side of my face, cold against my skin. Shadows stretched across the marble desk, long and sharp.
The air smelled like cigars and old ink, the kind of scent that never really leaves a place, no matter how many times you air it out.
Outside, the city was loud and restless, but in here, it was just me. Quiet. Still. The kind of stillness that makes you start thinking too much.
Too still.
The ledger stared back at me, pages of digits and decimals tha ...
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