Hutson Law firm

Twenty minutes had passed since Carlos had finished explaining himself to Craig Hutson, the CEO of Hutson Law Firm. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional sip of tea from Gloria Hutson, who sat calmly at the side, her demeanor poised and composed.

Finally breaking the silence, Craig with his expression serious, addressed Carlos. "So, you're saying someone framed you," he stated, his tone grave.

Carlos nodded, his head lowered. "Yes, sir. I was attacked and rendered unconscious," he replied quietly.

Gloria, sensing the tension in the room, rose gracefully from her seat. "Oh, darling, you know Carlos has been making significant contributions to our law firm lately. This must be the work of jealous competitors," she interjected, her voice calm and reassuring.

Craig appeared a little hesitant for a moment, but ultimately, not wanting to disappoint his wife, he smiled amiably. "Mr. Carlos, I trust you. After all, you have been recommended by my wife, and she would never praise unworthy individuals. I'll speak to the PR team and issue a statement to address your situation. You may leave now," he concluded, dismissing Carlos with a wave of his hand.

After Carlos had left the cabin, Gloria stepped forward and planted a kiss on her husband's cheek. "Thank you, honey," she murmured gratefully.

Craig smiled warmly at his wife. "You don't need to thank me. Like you said, Carlos is a talented individual," he replied, returning her affection.

Time had etched lines on Craig's face, aging him beyond his years, but Gloria remained youthful and radiant. He often worried that she might grow tired of their lifestyle, but she had always been understanding and supportive, both to him and to their son.

"Oh, where's Frederick? I haven't seen him in two days," Craig inquired, his brow furrowing with concern.

Gloria chuckled softly. "Probably off partying with his friends somewhere. You know how youngsters are these days," she sighed, a hint of exasperation in her tone.

Craig's laughter filled the room. "Of course. Don't worry, he's still young. He'll definitely grow into a responsible person, just like his mother," he remarked with a grin.

Gloria waved off his compliment, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, hush, stop exaggerating. I'm sure he'll be just like his father. Now, let's eat. It won't taste good if it gets cold," she insisted.

"Why are you stressing yourself? Didn't I say I'll manage?" Craig chided his wife gently, his tone affectionate.

"Eating outside food isn't good for your health. I made these dishes myself, so let's eat," Gloria replied, her concern evident in her voice.

Mr. Craig smiled contentedly, feeling the warmth of their domestic bliss enveloping them. And so, the couple began to eat, immersed in their harmonious illusion of familial happiness.

On the other side, Frederick lounged comfortably on the sofa in his private lounge. In his hand, he held a soft hanky adorned with a shiny silver symbol "S" and delicate fern leaves embroidered in the corner.

"soft, shiny, silver. Just like him," Frederick mused with a gentle smile, folding the hanky and tucking it into his pants pocket.

Grabbing his car keys, he decided it was time to visit his parents. It had been two days since his last visit, and he suspected his father might be fussing about his absence. But first, he stopped by a nearby florist to pick up his mother's favorite flowers, a bouquet of pink cloves.

As he exited the shop, someone carelessly bumped into him, causing a hot coffee to spill onto his pastel green shirt, a cherished gift from his mother. The stain spread quickly, marring the fabric and ruining it.

It was his favourite shirt, he always reminded the maids to take extra care while washing this shirt but who knows it was ruined just like that. 

Frustration simmered within Frederick as he prepared to unleash his anger upon the person responsible for staining his cherished shirt. But as he glanced up, his fury dissipated in an instant, replaced by surprise and curiosity.

Anxious silver eyes met his, filled with nervousness as the person chewed on their lower lip. Frederick's heart skipped a beat as he realized who stood before him—it was the same man who had been occupying his thoughts day and night. Could this be a fateful encounter?

Lost in thought, Frederick didn't immediately speak, but the other person seemed to sense his presence and turned to face him.

"I am extremely sorry, sir," the person blurted out hastily, bowing deeply in apology.

Frederick couldn't help but chuckle. "Still not over with bowing?" he quipped, a hint of amusement in his tone.

At the sound of Frederick's voice, the person raised his head, the hazy silver eyes widening in recognition as they locked gazes with him.