The obsidian-walled living room of the Muskoka estate, once a symbol of Julian's absolute control, had transformed into a high-tech interrogation chamber. The massive, seventy-five-inch recessed television screen—usually reserved for displaying stock market tickers or drone footage of his sprawling properties—was now a window into his destruction.
Julian stood frozen in the center of the room, a glass of amber scotch trembling in his hand. The liquid sloshed against the crystal, a rhythmic chimeJulian stood frozen in the center of the room, a glass of amber scotch trembling in his hand. The liquid sloshed against the crystal, a rhythmic chime that was the only sound in the room besides the voice of the woman on the screen.
