Chapter 4 — Echoes of Isolation

Max Sterling

The steady rhythm of the waves pounding against the cliffs below was the only sound that filled the vast emptiness of the mansion. Max sat slouched in a worn leather armchair near the bay window of his study, a scotch glass dangling precariously from his fingertips. The sea outside was dark and restless, mirroring the turmoil churning in his chest. A fire crackled weakly in the stone hearth behind him, its warmth unable to penetrate the chill that seemed to have taken root in the air—and in Max himself.