Chapter 8: The Deal

UNCLE GAMMOND'S MANSION

POV DESMOND

I parked my car and stepped out into the chilly night air. I made my way up to my uncle's door and went inside. I never felt the need to knock since it had been my home for so many years.

"Good afternoon Mr. Blakely," the maid Patrice greeted. She was the only one left to help run my uncle's home. There was the cook, but he mostly kept to himself in the kitchen when he was needed.

"Good evening, Patrice," I replied, giving her a warm smile. She had also been one of my companions while I lived here. She used to sneak me jam toast when my uncle sent me to bed without dinner. "Is he in his study?" I asked, already climbing the stairs.

"Yes. He only ever leaves to rest in his room," Patrice called after me. I sighed; he was only getting worse. I worried most days about him. I worried that Patrice would find him dead at his desk. Too engrossed in his work to ask for help. The door was ajar when I walked up.