Hearing this, Yves's heart hammered in his chest as a chill crept down his spine, a cold hand of realization grasping at his soul.
The truth he was about to confront seemed to be far darker and more sinister than he dared to imagine.
Yet, with a steely resolve born of necessity, Yves maintained his charade, masking his turmoil behind a facade of feigned ignorance.
"What does he need, Zach?" His voice wavered, betraying none of the turmoil raging within him.
***
As the clock inched closer to midnight, the room was cloaked in an atmosphere of tense anticipation.
Vincent sat in the dimly lit study, absently twirling a silver coin between his fingers, his calculating gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the room's confines.
Nearby, Greg lounged on a leather sofa, surrounded by towering stacks of documents that demanded his attention.
The silence was abruptly shattered by the creak of the heavy oak door.
