Just… nothing.
His unease grew with each step deeper into the mansion.
Then, from the hallway leading to the living room, he heard something—a sharp, irritated voice.
His wife’s.
“Do it properly! I don’t want to ask twice,” she snapped.
He walked forward—and froze.
There, on the polished marble floor, was his mother.
On her knees.
Scrubbing the tiles with one hand…
…while balancing his two small children on her shoulders like she was some kind of pack animal.
Her face was flushed red from exhaustion, her back trembling under the weight of the kids.
She wasn’t smiling.
She wasn’t playing.
She was being ordered.
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