A gloomy morning, as if the world had come to a standstill with the loss.
The damp air left over from last night's storm crept in through the wide-open front door, carrying the scent of wet earth mixed with a bone-chilling cold.
Amid the grandeur of the crystal chandelier, Mark sat helplessly. The faded shirt clinging to his body was still stained with soot, wrinkled, and haphazardly rolled up. He had been wearing the same faded shirt since last night, making him look a far cry from the once-respected business tycoon.
Mark's face looked sunken, with dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep. He didn't speak, nor did he move as the sound of boot heels stopped in front of him, followed by a knock on the door. Two men in dark uniforms stood in the doorway.
