BREAKDOWN
PART IHenry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Morning sunlight filtered into the room through the sheer curtains on the double doors. He glanced at them and blinked. The doors led to a balcony with stone balustrades, which overlooked a yard that made him think of a Roman villa.The house—Henry wouldn't call it a "mansion"—had been built by some idiot movie star in the Seventies. It was a cross between the Playboy mansion and Caesar's Palace, complete with cypress trees, a marble...