CHAPTER ONE
THE MASON HOUSEHOLD
Knock, knock, knock.
"Who’s there? Just a moment, please," a voice called out from inside.
A few seconds later, the heavy front door swung open.
"Who are yo—?" the woman began, but she was quickly cut off by the man standing on the porch.
"Good evening, Mrs. Mason," he greeted smoothly.
"Oh... Hi. Good evening, Mr. Miller," she replied, visibly shaken. She gripped the edge of the door, unable to hide her shock. "What brings you here at this time of night?"
"I had some business in the neighborhood and decided to drop by to check on Andy," Mr. Miller explained with a casual shrug. "I don't know when I’ll get the chance to do so again."
"Right... but it’s already so late," Mrs. Mason said defensively, shifting her weight to block the entryway. "I think you should come back tomorrow. He must be asleep by now."
"Well, that's not a problem," Miller pushed back, his tone polite but persistent. "Let me just take a quick look at him and I'll leave. Just two minutes is fine."
"I really don't think so," she countered, her voice hardening. "It’s not right to disturb a child's sleep, is it?"
Miller stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Okay, if you say so. What about Mason?"
"I think he’s asleep too," she said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly. "So it really is best if you come back tomorrow."
"Okay, good night, Mrs. Ma—"
Before Miller could finish his sentence, a voice echoed from upstairs.
"Honey, what’s taking you so long? Who’s down there?"
Mr. Mason walked into view at the top of the stairs.
Miller’s face lit up, and he called past her into the house. "Hey, bro! I was just asking about you. Your wife said you were asleep."
"Miller? Hi," Mr. Mason said, his expression mirroring his wife's shock as he made his way down the steps. "What brought you here at this hour?"
"To check on Andy!" Miller replied simply.
"But it’s late already."
"Well," Miller said, looking between the two of them, "I feel like this is the only chance I've got since I'm already in the neighborhood."
"Well, you may just have to come back tomorrow," Mason said, his tone turning tense. "Since he’s already asleep, it's not polite to wake him up."
Miller frowned, his eyes darting between the couple. "Is something wrong?"
"Huh? No, not at all," Mason replied instantly.
"Because you guys are acting strange," Miller pressed, crossing his arms. "It’s not like it's the first time I'm coming to visit this late, but you guys are acting incredibly strange tonight—a bit too defensive. Is there something wrong with Anderson?"
"Huh? What? No... he's... he's just asleep," Mason stammered.
He had barely finished his sentence when two men suddenly walked into view from the shadows of the house. One was carrying nothing and loudly shouting at the other, who was visibly struggling to balance a mountain of shopping bags in his slender arms.
"You better hold those things well and walk fast!" the unburdened man snapped in a stern, harsh voice. "If even one drops, you are in deep trouble."
"Harper, these bags are too much for me," Anderson pleaded, his voice straining under the weight. "If you could allow me to carry them twice, it would be a lot easier."
Harper stopped in his tracks and sneered. "Anderson, have I been too lenient on you these days, to the point that you actually think your opinion matters, huh?"
Without another word, Harper swung his hand and landed a sharp, stinging slap right across Anderson's face.
"What the hell is going on here?!" a furious voice boomed from the background.
It was Miller.
