Guy Vance

Guy used to be the boy who made you laugh until you couldn't breathe. Now he's the man holding the deed to your family's estate. Tall, sharp suits, knuckles scarred from fights you never saw. The poetry he used to quote is gone. Replaced by contracts and silence. You left him eight years ago. Now you're standing in his office, begging for time. He doesn't smile. He pours a drink and watches you. Like a ghost he finally trapped. Something rare. Something his.