The fluorescent lights in the ceiling of the interrogation room hummed low, casting a blinding, sterile white light. Across the cold metal table, a detective tossed a stack of photographs with a loud smack."You know, Mr. Bachnault," the detective began, a crooked smile etched across his tired, lined face. "I've always heard rumors that billionaires have some... eccentric hobbies. But your tastes are truly on a different level."One by one, the photographs were displayed before Ronan. The first shot, taken from grainy CCTV footage, showed Ronan naked, biting and clawing at his own bodyguard in the mansion grounds like a wild animal. The second showed him emerging from a dark, empty house, carrying a woman's body and dragging a battered boy.And the final shot, a long shot, showed Ronan holding the barrel of a high-caliber rifle.Ronan didn't even blink. He leaned back in his metal chair in a relaxed posture, staring at the series of photos as if the detective in front of him had just
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