CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
A beautiful rendition of Mozart’s Requiem performed by the Hungarian National Philharmonic orchestra played softly over the surround speakers in Hulley’s master bedroom. The nobleman stood on an alteration platform while his personal dresser, Stefano, was taking his measurements. If he was going to be required to suffer for his sins, he would at least like to be styled appropriately when the political ruffians came for him.
He heard his bedroom door creak open and looked towards it. That could’ve only been Abram. Stefano continued to work as Hulley signaled for his adopted son to come closer.
“So.”
Abram stood there for a moment with a sullen expression.
“All clean. As you requested.”
A smile emerged from his aide-de-camp’s lips. Hulley joined him in euphoria. The
