A corporate execution left the scene with a whiff of high-quality paper, cologne and the acrid aroma of over-worked server cooling units. Now in the large Manhattan meeting room of the Richason Tower, the media cameras had been turned off and there was no sound, except for the heavy breathing of the twenty-four multi-billion dollar board members, who were stunned, paralyzed, and gasping.
The emerald silk gown lay like a stain around Nielle's legs as she sat crumpled at the bottom of the mahogany table. The diamond engagement ring, the very top tier ring that Zeth had placed on her finger an hour ago, was now more of a cold, heavy band of iron. Two uniformed security officers towered over her, faces as hard as the stone pillars that were her prison's framework.
Zeth Richason looked up at
