His Unwanted Wife Returned as a Boss
It looked like a moon-sized eye, composed of ancient, frozen clockwork.
"The Grand Auditor," Julian whispered.
Suddenly, the cellar door didn't just open; it was Erased. Standing in the doorway was not a black geometric figure, but a small child—a boy no older than six, wearing a 1970s-era space suit. He held a silver ball in his hand.
The boy looked at Julian, his eyes a swirling void of purple stars.
"The Audit is not about your money, Julian Thorne," the boy said, his voice sounding like the wind on Mars. "It is about your Time. And yours is up."