Chapter 4

The morning sun threw sharp lines of light across the marble foyer as the heavy brass knocker sounded.

I sat in the armchair, my leg resting on an ottoman, sipping my black coffee.

Arthur was rushing down the stairs, adjusting his tie, completely oblivious to the storm at the door.

He opened it with his usual practiced smile, expecting a courier or his driver.

Instead, a tall man in a dark gray suit handed him a thick white envelope.

"Arthur Sterling, you've been served," the process server said, turning on his heel without waiting for a reply.

Arthur’s smile vanished…