The intensity of Greg's unyielding gaze made Bishop Kelly's confidence shatter like fragile porcelain beneath a relentless hammer. It was as though the bishop stood accused before an immutable tribunal, his every secret and deceit laid bare, awaiting an irrevocable sentence. The room seemed to grow colder with every second under Greg's piercing stare.
"I'm... I'm sorry," Bishop Kelly stammered, his voice trembling as he lowered himself into a posture of submission. "I will see to it that my mistakes are corrected." His words bore the heavy cloak of repentance, but beneath that mask, his mind churned like a stormy sea—scheming how to turn this moment of humiliation into a reckoning for Greg once he was free.
