Eleanor's Investigation

Eleanor adjusted her glasses, the cool steel of the frame a small comfort against the growing unease churning in her stomach. For years, she’d been Bartholomew Sterling’s right hand, a silent observer to his meticulously constructed world of power, precision, and profit. She knew his rhythms, anticipated his needs, and, to a degree, understood the complex machinery that was his mind. But lately, something was off. Terribly off.

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