At that moment Mark entered his chamber, his steps heavy, the door shutting behind him with a deep thud that echoed in the quiet space.
The room was dimly lit, the curtains pulled halfway, but in the center of the wall, a giant screen flickered silently. On it played live feeds from the hidden cameras scattered around the presidential suite's living room. Every angle of the earlier commotion was captured Lady Willow's face, the family's sneers, the child standing brave in front of her mother protecting her, and most of all Cecilia.
Mark stood in front of the screen, his hands in his pockets, his jaw clenching harder with every passing second.
On the floor, broken glass from an earlier wine bottle lay scattered, the red wine staining the polished wood like blood. He had thrown it the moment he came back and realized the suite was empty Cecilia gone.
His heart felt heavy, a strange tightness pulling inside his chest that he couldn't shake off.
