Chapter Eighty One

The crisp night air carried a hint of autumn's chill as Ryan stepped out into the garden, seeking solace from the confines of the room. The sprawling grounds of the manor offered a sanctuary, a place where he could escape the confines of his thoughts.

A cigar, a rare indulgence, was lit and brought to his lips. Smoking wasn't a habit for him; it was a ritual, a moment of respite in the chaos of his life. It wasn't about pleasure or addiction, but about the warmth it provided against the cold, a physical manifestation of the solace he sought. The first puff was always the most satisfying, the smoke filling his lungs and clearing his mind. With each inhale, the nicotine soothed his nerves, offering a temporary respite from the complexities of his life.