On a warm Sunday afternoon, the library was full of people. But it wasn’t a party. It was a gathering of lawyers, businessmen, and a young man named Leo. Leo was 17 now.
Mr. Αrthur Sterling was not asleep. His eyes were closed. His breathing was heavy and rhythmic, and his fragile body was sunk deep into the burgundy velvet of his favorite armchair. To anyone looking at him, he seemed like a tired, harmless old man drifting into an afternoon nap. But beneath his eyelids, Αrthur was…
