Edward's Point Of View
The silence in my office was no longer the quiet of a successful man; it was the pressurized stillness of a tomb. Behind my desk, I sat motionless as the heavy mahogany felt like a barrier slowly shrinking, closing in on me. Lydia's voice remained a frantic, high-pitched echo in the back of my skull.
"Dad, we are in trouble." Those five words ran a relentless marathon through my brain, refusing to slow down. Each repetition carved itself deeper, like water wearing away stone.
A sigh escaped me, dragging what felt like my very soul along with it. I leaned back, and my chair creaked… a sound that usually signified power, but today merely offered a warning. The leather groaned beneath my weight, as if it too sensed the shift in my fortunes. Even my furniture was turning against me.
