THE GRAND EMPIRE

Hansen, Mr Paul Klein's special assistant led him through a series of opulent hallways until they reached a set of double doors which he pushed open to reveal a lavishly furnished study.

The room was a symphony of rich wood and leather, with bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling.

Behind an imposing mahogany desk sat Elvis' Uncle, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a perfectly tailored suit.

"Elvis," Paul's voice was warm, his smile genuine, as he rose from his seat to approach Elvis. "It's been far too long."

Paul enveloped Elvis in a warm hug. Elvis had always expected his uncle to be aloof, at least, a bit cold. But this display of affection was unexpected and comforting.

"I apologize for not reaching out sooner," Paul said as they took their seats.

"You see after your parents passed away, I lost track of you. I didn't know where you were or what had happened to you. For years, I searched, but I couldn't find you."

Elvis felt a twinge of confusion.

A