(Bradley)
The house was too quiet when Dylan finally dropped him off. It was a sterile, echoing kind of silence that seemed to mock him, reminding him that while he owned the estate, he had long since ceased to make it a home. Dylan had been uncharacteristically soft, his voice low as he told Bradley that he and Brittany would handle everything at Red Eye Gaming for the next few days. He had urged Bradley to take the time—to breathe, to process, to simply exist without the pressure of a boardroom.
Bradley hadn't argued. He didn't have the strength.
He retreated to his room, the shadows stretching long across the floor as the afternoon sun began to dip. He didn't change out of his clothes; he simply sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the book the priestess had given him. The "Omega
