Chapter 4: The Closing Doors
The heavy oak doors of the dining hall thudded shut—an automated seal. Martha turned, her breath hitching as she realized they were locked from the outside. The room was no longer a hall; it was a cage.
"Why?" she hissed, her voice trembling. "I gave you the best years of my life!"
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"You gave me a performance," Arthur replied, his voice devoid of warmth. "And every great performance deserves an audience. My lawyers are in the foyer. The police are waiting in the garden. And the press? They’re getting a live stream of this exact moment."
Martha looked at the phone, then at the cameras hidden in the ornate moldings of the ceiling. Every secret, every petty theft, every assassination attempt—it had all been recorded, archived, and curated into a masterwork of evidence. Her world wasn't collapsing; it had never existed at all. It was a construction Arthur had allowed her to build, just so he could watch it burn.
