The blazing, shimmering sun sheds its rays through the windows, flooding the massive mansion with golden light. Frederick reclines with a newspaper inside the green drawing room, basking in the warm sunlight. The painted walls come alive, vibrant as emerald, while the gilded panellings dazzle with sparkling reflections.

     Surrounding the green drawing room, a blooming garden mirrors its lush ambience. Green sofas and chairs nestle amidst plants and pots. The wooden floorboards glimmer like burnished bronze, accentuated by the sun's radiant touch.

     Frederick wears a crisp white shirt paired with a black cravat tie, trousers, and polished shoes—an ensemble perfect for a serene moment in the drawing room. Beneath his shirt, an unbuttoned beige waistcoat with delicate cream-coloured embroidery peeks through. Completing the picture, he dons a pair of eyeglasses, immersed in the steady reading of the newspaper clasped in his hands.

     The sunlight caressed Frederick's back, illuminating his hair like glistening snow. His eyes scanned the broad expanse of the newspaper, and a faint furrow creased his brow. Leaning closer to the print, his lips tightened in concentration. Gradually, his eyes widened, and his brows knitted deeper, etching lines across his face.

     As Frederick reads the headline, uncertainty swirls within his mind, causing his heart to thump louder than a drumbeat. He slowly takes a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. Despite the rising tension, he resolutely continues reading the newspaper.

"Eight prisoners have escaped from Asbranne State Prison," Frederick silently read the words with his eyes, his mouth tightly shut. "Among the escapees are Cal Hidesine, Nelson Amerson, Rowan Brender, Joel Hillen, and four other unidentified inmates. Authorities are in search and high alert."

     The foremost concern gripping Frederick's mind is the safety of his beloved adoptive son, Oliver. Worry propels his thoughts to hasten, but anxiety weakens his knees, preventing him from standing upright. The news has him frozen like solid ice.

     Meanwhile, Sophia, Sarrah, and Bethany descended from the upper floors to the ground level. Their lively conversation filled every corner as their heels resounded on the wooden steps of the grand staircase. Unaware of the mounting unease, they engaged in carefree banter, their opulent gowns from the previous day adorning their figures once more.

     As their loafers touched the ground floor, Sophia, Sarrah, and Bethany's ears caught a creaking noise from their left side. Their gazes instinctively turned in that direction, seeing a door slowly opening. Emerging from the doorway, Frederick appeared with a visage that blended fear and deep concern.

"Oh, good day, Mr Frederick!" Sophia greeted Frederick with an exuberant smile and a wave.

"My ladies," Frederick approached them, his hands tightly gripping the newspaper, causing the sheet to wrinkle under the pressure. "Have either of you seen my son, Oliver?" he asked politely.

"I apologise, but I haven't seen him," Sophia responded.

"Forgive me as well. I haven't heard anything from him," Sarrah added.

Frederick looked at Bethany.

"The last time I saw him, he was baking cookies in the kitchen," Bethany recalled. "Perhaps Oli is still there?"

Suddenly, Edgar appeared with a cookie in his hand. "Who?" he asked, stepping closer to the group.

"Oliver," Bethany told Edgar.

"Oh, Ed. Is Oli in the kitchen?" Sophia calmly asked Edgar.

"Nope. But some cooks there gave me a cookie," Edgar raised his cookie and took a swift bite. "...Why?" he asked, his words muffled as he chewed.

Sophia glanced at Frederick. "Is something troubling you, Mr Frederick?" she asked, noticing the furrowed brows and downturned lips on Frederick's face.

Frederick's gaze lowered, his worry intensifying. "...Read this," he said, handing the newspaper to Sophia.

Sophia's eyes swiftly scanned the newspaper, absorbing the contents. As she delved further into the text, her eyes widened, and a look of deep apprehension crossed her face. "...Oh, dear. Oli's in danger."

     Meanwhile, Oliver, Gregory, and their children revel in playful moments inside the lounge. Laughter fills the air as they cherish their joyful time together. Unaware of specific messages, they find solace in the warm hands of sweet comfort.

     Oliver and Jean dance across the floor. The father and the son twirl, their hands held tightly. Giggles lift off their tongues as they spin and sway, swinging along the space.

      With his broad, sturdy shoulders supporting his son, George, Gregory carries him playfully on his back. The room becomes their playground as Gregory sprints, his steps quickening while George clings tightly to his father's back. George delights in the exhilarating sensation of wind rushing through his hair, hurled by Gregory's swift strides.

"Me next! Me next!" Albert jumped.

     The door swings open, its creaky hinge echoing like a vexatious sorceress, capturing everyone's attention. Oliver and Jean come to an abrupt halt, their spinning dance interrupted. Gregory pauses mid-track, gently lowering George from his shoulders. Together, Oliver, Gregory, and their children look at the doorway, their mouths falling silent.

"Oh, goodness. Oli, we've been looking for you," Sophia hurriedly approached Oliver.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Sophia passed the newspaper to Oliver. "Here," she sighed.

     As Oliver started reading the newspaper, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw dropped in shock. A sensation gripped his throat—as if a solid object had lodged itself, making it difficult for him to breathe. Despite the tightening feeling, he compelled himself to take rapid breaths, inhaling and exhaling with increasing urgency, ultimately succumbing to hyperventilation as his muscles grew tense with distress.

"What's happening?" Elizabeth asked in confusion.

     Words remained trapped within Oliver's mouth, held captive by the weight of devastating pasts he wished to shield his children from. Lightly shaking his head, he silently declined to answer his daughter's probing question, knowing that some truths were better left unspoken. Oliver then closed his eyes, releasing a deep breath through his mouth.

     Drawing closer to Oliver's side, Gregory's eyes darted swiftly towards the newspaper, engulfing the news within its pages. A furrow creased across his brow while his widened eyelids mirrored the shock hastening in him. Quickly, he turned his gaze to meet Oliver's, peering into his glistening pupils.

     Oliver and Gregory stared at each other. Fear flickered in their shimmering eyes, casting a shadow of uncertainty. Time seemed to stand still as they stood frozen, their unyielding gaze fixated upon one another.