Arthur reclined lazily on his luxurious leather couch, the dim glow of his tablet casting faint reflections across the sleek contours of his living room.
His gaze was fixed, unwavering, on the video feed playing before him—footage streamed directly from the small surveillance camera he had installed in Angel's house.
It wasn't paranoia—it was control. A control he refused to relinquish.
The camera, positioned in the most inconspicuous corner of her living room, served as his ever-watchful eye.
Angel had agreed to this arrangement, though perhaps reluctantly, as a condition of her so-called "freedom."
It had been a carefully negotiated deal, one she saw as a step toward liberation, but Arthur knew better.
Freedom, at least in the way Angel envisioned it, wasn't something he was willing to grant so easily.
