The sky was clear this morning, with birds singing overhead and dogs barking around the compound.

Kelvin descended the long staircase in his half-dressed pyjamas. His chest was bare, revealing his well-toned muscles and tattooed arms. He yawned as he headed down to the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, he opened the fridge, grabbing a jar of milk and some bread. He then reached for the shelf to retrieve the oats container, ready to prepare breakfast.

He started by toasting the bread, then moved on to make the oats. After that, he prepared a salad with chopped sausage.

Next, he set the table for two. As he was halfway through, Mr MarQueen arrived.

"Good morning," he greeted his son.

"Good morning. I've just prepared breakfast. With mom gone, we should consider hiring a maid to help with household chores."

"I see," Mr MarQueen replied. "So, you're not planning to move back home." He watched Kelvin intently through his glasses. When Kelvin remained silent, he pressed further.

"You do understand this house is still yours. With her gone, you're still my son. That doesn't change."

Kelvin sighed, still focused on setting the table. "Yes, I know. But I have my own place, and I have no intention of giving it up. For now, I can stay with you during this grieving period, a few months at most. Afterwards, I'll return to my apartment."

Mr MarQueen picked up the jug of milk and poured some over his oatmeal, served in front of him. Lost in thought, he spoke,

"It seems you believe I can't manage on my own now that your mom is gone. I assure you, I'm fine. I don't have time to mourn; I need every moment to find out what really happened to her."

Kelvin pulled out a chair and sat down, then spread cheese on a toasted bread and topped it with some salad.

Mr MarQueen watched him take a bite before speaking:

"I need to find out if there was foul play. If so, I will ensure those responsible pay with their lives."

Kelvin paused with his bread near his lips. "Mom wouldn't want you to seek revenge."

"How do you know what your mother would want?" he snapped.

Kelvin placed the bread back on his plate. "Because she told me so in her letter."

Mr MarQueen leaned forward, anger flashing in his eyes as he tightly gripped the spoon. "Are you saying she foresaw her death and that it wasn't an accident?"

There was a pause.

"Yes." Kelvin finally responded.

In a burst of rage, Mr MarQueen swept the food off the table, scattering it across the room. He slammed his fist down.

"I need to read that letter. Where is it?" he demanded.

Kelvin took a bite of his bread. Unfazed about the whole act. "I burned it. She told me not to let you seek revenge, but she didn't say I couldn't do the same."

"I intend to fulfil her last wishes. And that means keeping you out of trouble."

Mr MarQueen cursed. "I'd love to see you try."

***

At the Andersons' safe house in Jamestown, the elder son of the late crime lord Mr Calvin Anderson sits at a high table with clan subleaders gathered around.

In front of them kneels a man in his late thirties with short dark dreadlocks, reporting on his recent mission.

Julius Anderson, seated at the high chair, erupts in anger. "Answer me, how could you fail? Your task was simple. To find the headmaid who fled with my younger brother and bring both back alive. How did Miss Phidous Bruce end up dead?"

The leaders remain silent.

Watching the drama unfolding before their eyes.

"Do you understand what you've done? You failed to retrieve my brother and ended up killing one of our own, and her death changes everything."

The kneeling man, face pressed to the ground, pleads, "Forgive me, my lord. I only wanted her to stop and talk, I didn't think she would drive off the cliff. I know I shouldn't have chased her, but enemies were closing in. Please, forgive me."

Julius dismounts from his chair, furious. "Forgive?" he sneers, approaching the man. "The last thing I will do is forgive you." He kneels, face to face, and declares, "Your actions caused her death, so I have no choice but to atone for it with your life."

The man begs, "Please, sir, have mercy. I have a newborn; she shouldn't grow up without a father."

Julius pulls a knife from his boot, smirking menacingly. "Don't worry, she won't lack love in your absence," he whispers before slitting the man's throat, watching him struggle to breathe as blood squirts out. The subleaders watch in terror, avoiding questioning his ruthlessness. Julius, known for his quick temper and relentless pursuit of perfection-traits forged during a year of torture at the hands of kidnappers from his youth-has become unforgiving and unapologetic. His suffering began when he was abducted from his family, and he was found half-dead by his uncle.

This experience has profoundly shaped who he is today.

"What the hell, Julius!" a woman's voice exclaims. Mrs Kate Anderson storms in with her daughter behind, yelling, "You promised you wouldn't kill him, only question him! Why are you doing this?" She slaps him, shouting, "Are you trying to create enemies in our own clan? Will you rule with fear like your father?"

"Answer me!"

Julius stares at his mother with fury in his eyes.

"I am only trying to get your son back to you, woman. And the only way to achieve that is not through mercy from a failed mission. So stay back and let me do my job."