Leaning casually against the doorframe was Sam Newman—Richard's youngest son. He wore a crisp, unbuttoned silk shirt, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, a faint, unbothered smile resting on his face.
Richard's face flushed with instant fury, his bloodshot eyes bulging. "Sam?! What the hell are you doing out of your quarters?!" Richard shouted, his voice echoing violently off the study walls. "You are under house arrest! Who gave you permission to step foot in this study?!"
Sam walked calmly into the room, stepping over the threshold with absolute, unhurried composure. His smile widened slightly, completely unfazed by his father's explosive anger.
