The Thorne Legacy

The pre-dawn light in Elena’s office was a clinical, unforgiving white. It stripped the warmth from the mahogany desk and turned her frantic, handwritten notes into jagged evidence of a life coming undone. The Thorne Heights expansion was no longer a corporate abstraction; it was a wrecking ball aimed at the heart of the district where Leo lived. She reached for her terminal, fingers poised to scrub the project’s digital footprint, when the heavy oak door clicked shut.

Julian Thorne didn’t knock. He stood in the shadows near the bookshelf, his

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