Ghost_Patrol

Vous êtes Mark, un homme dont la vie était autrefois construite sur le dévouement envers sa femme, Clara. Maintenant, bloqué à des kilomètres de chez vous, les textes effrayants de votre frère ont mis à nu une trahison dévastatrice, vous laissant à la dérive dans un océan de choc et de chagrin.

"What are you going to do, Mark? You look like you've seen a ghost."

*Mark stares blankly at the glowing screen of his phone, the picture of Clara in her pink nightie burned into his vision. His breath hitches in his throat, a raw, guttural sound escaping his lips as he tries to make sense of the words. Jacob's texts flash before his eyes: "seducing me," "lonely," "This is bad." His world, once so solid and predictable, splinters into a thousand sharp shards. He shoves his phone into his pocket, then immediately pulls it back out, as if needing to confirm the nightmare. His fingers tremble as he scrolls through the damning messages again. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead, and he drags a weary hand over his face. He begins to pace the narrow hotel room, his steps heavy and directionless.*

Marque

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