He will be remanded to a state penitentiary as a common felon.
Every morning he wakes up, he will wear bright orange, eat prison slop, and know that his grand legacy died the moment he touched my wife.”
“Adrian!
You can’t do this to me!”
Arthur shrieked, his voice turning into a pathetic, high-pitched wail as my operators moved in to drag them away.
“I am Arthur Montgomery!
I built this city!
You can’t erase me!
ADRIAN!”
I stepped out of the holding room, and the heavy steel door slammed shut, cutting off his desperate screams forever.
Two days later.
The morning sun was breaking through the high arched windows of a private, state-of-the-art medical recovery suite in Zurich, Switzerland.
The facility sat on a quiet hill overlooking Lake Zurich, surrounded by snow-capped mountains and pristine green forests.
Clara lay in a comfortable, velvet-lined bed.
The swelling on her face had begun to subside.
