Chapter 2 — The Confession

“Marcus,” Preston said. His voice dropped an octave, carrying the suppressed authority of a man who could end careers with one phone call.

“Who ordered you to do this?”

Before the lawyer could stammer out another lie, the conference room doors swung open with a heavy creak.

“I did,” a resonant voice boomed from the doorway.

Conrad Waverly stepped into the room. Seventy-two years old, tall and imposing, thick silver hair, the unyielding posture of an emperor who’d never once been told no.