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Interiors of the house were as Nolan expected. Red Florentine columns with frescos on all of the ceilings depicting men contemplating celestial problems. The wood furniture was carved with curves and inlaid with smooth crystal. The reclaimed barn wood below them was also luxurious and inlaid with stained glass murals of family portraits. Every surface was a facet of family heritage with the history of Wong Industries inlaid with engraved marble plaques denigrating the various accomplishments to the family tree on a delicate iron trellis tree of small wooden portrait frames with smiling photos hanging on a sprawling system of branches. Down a flight of stairs was an imposing portrait of a young chinese family--an imposing father with greying hair holding the shoulder of a laughing woman with billowing hair and a nice smile with a solemn petulant boy.

Here Nolan paused to stare at the little boy's pout. A fitting portrait--he thought to himself--of the icy businessman he had come to know. But looking around him, he had hoped to find a spoiled frat boy type of furnishing, but to his displeasure, the manor was touched only with the Wong family's impeccable austerity. It was beautiful and simple in the same as the monasteries where monks lived were--large empty spaces that echoed the holy of the inhabitants. But, it probably was more a reflection of the Wong family at large rather than Henry himself.

No amount of interior designing could show this type of legacy as was visible in the beating heart of this manor. As much as he hated to admit it to himself--the Wongs as a family unit were not something he could scoff at. They had worked for what they had and guarded it fiercely.

The servant cleared his throat as Nolan trailed behind. They stood in front of a black teakwood door that was rolled to the side. Nolan looked up and realized it was probably 9-10 feet tall. He looked at the servant who raised an eyebrow as if knowing Nolan was going to be kicked out for sure. Nolan straightened his chin and set his jaw into full fighter mode as he walked inside.

It looked like a shoot from Architectural Digest that he had interrupted mid shoot. The space was as big as a basketball court with grey paneling against the wall that were spaced so behind them the vines creeped down onto them but the pots weren't visible. One whole wall was a giant window that was reflected across the opposite wall which was entirely a giant mirror. The floor was a giant zen garden that had sand combed into appealing swirls amid the shipwrecked rocks. On an island amidst this desert sat Henry with wooden bridges platforms that protrude from the ground leading to and from his little island.

'

On his black granite island a table sprouted up which was hewn from the same rock. From the ceiling two attachments held his swinging basket of a chair and the light from which his paperback novel was illuminated. Henry Wong sat in a basket chair chair suspend from a steel wrapped cord that was attached to the ceiling. Henry looked up from his book, his frameless glasses low on his nose. His navy bathrobe to reveal his white silk pajamas underneath. His toes flexed as he unconsciously turned a page. Sitting on the table next to him was an LED clock and a corgi with it's paws in the air. He knew Queen Elizabeth had made the breed popular, but really found nothing royal in it at all. It was just an overfed squirrel.

The servant bowed low as Henry looked up and took off his glasses. "Mr. Wong, a certain sir referring to himself as a 'relative-by-marriage' wishes to have a word with you. He arrived on the helipad with Michael, sir. I can call security right away, if needed or call the hospital to see if they're missing a patient from the mental ward."

A slight intake of breath soiled the image of a brooding gentlemen as he assured his servant,

"Funny. That won't be necessary." His brows lifted when he saw Nolan. He didn't think he had made an impression at all on his bride's family. To see them in his house was a reminder in Nolan's fuming eyes his actions did have consequences. He dismissed the servant who slid the door behind them.

Nolan felt like he had been locked in a tomb.

Henry got up with casual ease. He was at home in his element. His book and glasses were neatly folded onto the desk next to him as Nolan joined him on the pavilion in the zen garden.

Henry clicked a switch and the mirror on the opposite side changed to show blooming roses made of ink in a sort of interactive wallpaper display.