“—Always was a good shot, but—“ Midas started as he reloaded his gold-plated gun, “Got a few pointers for the best—“ he said while aiming the gun at the man before him that was tied to a chair, roped ankles, wrists and a rope keeping his mouth shut securely, Midas spoke again as he turned to his daughter, Jules. “That’d be your mother,” He said, Jules’ face dropped in shock, she looked at Midas. “Father, who is my mother?” —Jules questioned,