Greg halted before him, his eyes boring into the man's soul. "While I'm still in the mood to hear your side of the story, go on," he said, his voice dripping with menace.
The man's eyes darted around the room, searching for a reprieve, before fixing on Greg's ominous mask. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his parched throat.
"So-someone came to me," he stammered, his voice cracking like brittle glass. "He offered me a huge sum of money to lend him my identity."
The words spilled out in a desperate rush, as if speaking them quickly might reduce their weight. "My family needed the money, so I couldn't say no." His voice trembled, like a leaf in an autumn breeze.
The air was heavy with tension, thick as the scent of sweat and fear. Greg's expression remained impassive, his eyes boring into the man's soul like cold steel.
