inconvenience

Leon Aldrich's pov

t stiffly in the burgundy plush chair, directly in front of the large, leather-topped desk. The room was dimly lit and cool, despite having the means to pay for better lighting and heating. I paid no attention to my surroundings; the walls lined with leather-bound books, the stone fireplace, the expensive Persian rug, and old oak flooring.

I knew they were there, but I kept my focus straight ahead. My hands rested on the report in my lap, my finger tapping impatiently on the manila cover.

I watched my lawyer, Anthony Greyson, with grim amusement. He never showed his displeasure through words or expressions; the tapping finger was his only sign of disappointment with my decision. Finally, after waiting for him to break, which he never did, I shifted in my chair and spoke. "So, is there anything else to report?"

"No, sir. Ms. Watson's file remains unchanged. She has a distant yet cordial relationship with her mother. There are no close friends or romantic interests i