The following morning dawned quietly, but beneath the surface of the mansion’s calmness, something heavy brewed. The sun had barely climbed over the trees when Mr. Martin summoned both of his sons, David and Jacob, into the grand living room.
The air was tense.
David came in wearing a forced smile, still half asleep, unaware of what awaited him. Jacob followed behind, calm but wary. He had sensed from his father’s tone the previous night that this wasn’t going to be an ordinary family discussion.
Mr. Martin sat in his favorite chair — the one facing the long glass windows that overlooked the garden. His face was stern, his hands clasped together on the armrest. The look in his eyes was neither anger nor disappointment… it was the deep, piercing calm of a man who already knew the truth.
