Chapter 19 I'm Not To Be Messed With

• A man fumbled with his keys, trying not to wake his family. It had been a long day, a longer week, and he was already exhausted. He closed the door behind him, dropped his briefcase by the corner, and let out a heavy breath. His house smelled of warmth—roasted chicken from dinner, the faint scent of his wife’s perfume still hanging in the air.
• He reached for the light switch in his study, muttering under his breath. But the moment the lamp clicked on, his chest froze.
• Someone was sitting in his chair. A tall figure, perfectly composed, legs crossed, clad in a dark suit that seemed tailored for authority. A single black glove on his right hand tapped lightly against the armrest, as though keeping time with an invisible clock.