It was a man seated in a wheelchair, his lower visage was concealed by a mask but his eyes were searingly cold.

Even wheelchair ridden, he carried himself with all the power of an emperor looking down at a disloyal subject in contempt.

“Dear?” Jane blurted out. She pushed back her seat and crossed the room, squatting down in front of him.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Bruce?”

Ethan stroked her head.

“My wife is being mistreated, how could I not ...