Your husband Daniel is very cruel, he has three sons. One is 18 years old, he is Jake, the other is 16 years old, he is Alex, they are both very stubborn, he has a 4-year-old son, he is Michael.

It was late afternoon when the shouting began. Upstairs, Jake and Alex were at it again, their voices echoing through the house.

The argument escalated quickly, their voices growing louder with each passing second. Doors slammed, and heavy footsteps thudded on the floor as they faced off in the hallway.

Downstairs, Daniel sat in his chair, his face darkening with irritation as the noise reached him. He had spent the entire day nursing his sore leg and was in no mood for his sons' constant fighting. Slamming his cane against the floor, he stood up, his patience at its breaking point.

"What the hell is going on up there?" Daniel bellowed, his voice booming.

The shouting upstairs paused for a moment, then resumed as if his words had gone unheard.

Daniel climbed the stairs slowly, his injured leg making each step a painful effort. By the time he reached the hallway, his face was red with both exertion and anger.

Jake and Alex were squared off, inches from each other, their fists clenched. Alex's shirt was wrinkled, and Jake's face was flushed with frustration.

"That's enough!" Daniel roared, his voice so loud it shook the walls.

Daniel's cane came down with a loud crack on the floor, silencing them both.

Without warning, Daniel's hand lashed out, striking Jake on the shoulder. Jake stumbled back, his face a mixture of shock and anger. Alex tried to retreat, but Daniel's grip was too fast. He grabbed Alex by the arm and shook him roughly.

Tears welled up in Alex's eyes, but he didn't dare cry out.

From the doorway of his room, little Michael stood frozen, his wide eyes brimming with fear. His toy train slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor