Chapter 372

"Alright, I’ll send you a live satellite snapshot." Prescott Ellington’s voice came through clearly on the call, calm and distinctive. "Perfect," Paul Hartwell chuckled. Over the past three years, Paul had grown into a more composed and refined version of himself—and even better looking. His crisp shirt fit him perfectly, accentuating his tall, lean frame. The biggest change? No more glasses. He’d finally fixed his nearsightedness. For Theron, that kind of surgery was barely even a warm-up. Paul never really thought about getting corrective surgery before. He’d been wearing glasses since his teens—totally used to it, never felt like a hassle. But during the three years Prescott was out cold, Paul had brushed too close to death more times than he could count. A couple of times, he’d almost been killed, all because he couldn’t see clearly in high-stakes moments. In combat, a split-second misjudgment could cost everything. No matter how good the glasses, they couldn't match natural eyesig