Western Hill Villa. Living Room.
Daniel sat in silence, staring at the closed bedroom door.
No one knew how long he had been there.
His bloodshot eyes held a trace of grief.
He had always slept soundly with Chantelle by his side.
He thought he would finally get a few nights of proper rest, only for his own son to ruin that hope.
After they left, the respected Daniel Wilson sat on the couch, pouring himself glass after glass of wine.
Bottle after bottle emptied, yet the room remained silent.
Worse yet, he waited from dusk until midnight without feeling the slightest bit tired.
Daddy is going to remember this, Railer!
He scowled at the dark night sky, silently cursing his son.
Arguing with a five-year-old was beneath him, so he could only hold back and make a mental note of it.
On the surface, he remained composed.
Early the next morning.
