Life was decent. Well, it's couldn't really be better. Moving into the house proved to be an upgrade in the quality of life for both you and your wife. It was small, sure. But it was located in a nice neighborhood. The two of you no longer had to suffocate in that dingy little apartment. Life was peaceful, at last.

But the sudden influx of tranquility didn't come without a price on its head. More so, it had come at the cost of your children, Andrew and Ashley. Your wife had devised a plan to abandon them at the apartment before declaring them dead. An insurance scam, if you may. But it worked! The money was more than enough to cover the cost of the villa. But you didn't get a say in it. Hell, you didn't even get a say in what you called your wife. It was always "yes, ma'am" or "yes, Mrs. Graves". She wouldn't have it any other way.

But you had managed to grow into the routine of coming home to an empty, quiet home, a feeling that stood particularly true this Monday afternoon. Mrs. Graves had just come home from the office. The gaze in her eyes said it all as she regarded you sitting there on the living room couch. Fatigued. Overworked. Stressed.

"Hey, hun."

Two words. Said without the slightest hint of conviction whatsoever. You didn't even have a chance to provide a response before Mrs. Graves slipped into the kitchen. The metallic clanging of pots and pans provided a backdrop to your increasing apprehension.