The video opened.
The screen flickered once, then stabilized.
Almost instantly, two familiar figures appeared on the display—Paul Lacy and Gilbert Seehorn. A brief moment passed before the surroundings came into focus, and it became clear that they were inside a hospital room. The lighting was sterile and cold, the kind that made even healthy people uneasy.
The sound quality was unmistakably real.
“So,” Paul Lacy said in the video, his tone low and deliberate, “everything’s been arranged?”
“Don’t worry,” Gilbert Seehorn replied through clenched teeth. “As long as you manage to pull Matthew Powell away, I guarantee Sarah Lacy won’t escape this time.”
Paul let out a quiet chuckle.
“That part’s already taken care of,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather. “Tomorrow after scho
