Henry Thompson stood by the window, staring at the brightly lit street despite the late hour, his expression obscured and murky under the lights.
A shade of indiscible darkness rippled across his glassy eyes.
Henry's features were gently composed, usually conveying a sense of softness, but his current lack of a smile only made him seem distant.
He looked down and swiped through photos on his phone, his eyebrows knitting tighter.
Finally, his fingertip landed on the face in the photo, and he pursed his lips.
If things were as he suspected, there might be considerable trouble ahead.
...
However, Charlotte Thompson was unaware of Henry's thoughts. Not long after she hung up the phone, Coco knocked and entered the room.
"Sister Charlotte, here's the new draft from the design department for this fall's collection; I brought it for you to see."
Coco handed Charlotte a small stack of drafts, and Charlotte nodded, accepting them.
