The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the room in deepening shades of amber and grey. Julian sat in the living room, the photograph from the unmarked package lying on the coffee table like a malevolent talisman. The flames from the fireplace flickered, reflecting in his glass of whiskey as he stared at the image of his younger self flanked by his parents.
The shrill buzz of his phone cut through the quiet. He glanced at the screen: an unknown number. His instincts flared—a cold warning that this was no ordinary call.
He answered, his voice sharp and commanding. “Julian Grey.”
The voice on the other end was calm, deliberate, and disturbingly familiar. “Good evening, Mr. Grey. I trust you’ve received my message.”
Julian sat up straighter, his grip tightening around the phone
