…..
Sir James sits in a large, leather armchair, the fire in the corner casting a warm glow on his face.
He leans in the chair, holding a glass of dark red wine, but he doesn't a sip, rather, he just stares at a small, framed picture on the table in front of him.
It's a picture of Marilyn, smiling a brightly and happily. The smile is a ghost of a past he knows he can never get back. He tosses the picture to the side and downs the wine in one gulp. The anger in his chest returning and burning fiercely.
A male servant enters the room, his head bowed. "My Lord," he says, his voice low. "It is done. She's in the room as you requested."
