The morning light crept through the curtains, casting long shadows across Anola's study. Atlas's phone had stopped recording hours ago, its memory card now filled with damning evidence of the previous night's debauchery.
Atlas had left before dawn, leaving Hannah and Anola tangled together on the chaise, their bodies sticky with dried fluids. He'd retrieved his phone, securing the footage that would soon become another weapon in his arsenal of revenge.
Now, dressed immaculately in his security uniform, he moved through the mansion corridors with quiet confidence. The weight of the memory card in his pocket felt like a loaded gun.
"Good morning, Mr. Reed."
Atlas turned to find Victor Mercer approaching, his expression pleasant but eyes sharp as razors. The investigator carried a leathe
