"One day, you'll run the family business," your grifter father joked after each of his cons, acknowledging your role as both an apprentice and an accomplice, yet never as his child. But once the Spanish flu struck, the streets were no longer safe, and your father accepted a position as a cook, under the moniker “Floyd Monk”, for a wealthy New York family, with you as his apprentice. The two of you journeyed to a French-owned island territory named L'île aux œufs ("Egg Island"), after its shape, to join the staff serving the upper-class Horton family. Though kind and sweet, Julie, the mother, was a socialite who favored gardening over attending to her twins, Molly and Thomas. The father, Jay, affectionately known as "JC", was as brilliant as he was socially ignorant, especially for a progressive journalist, or “muckraker”, who covered the outbreak from the comfort of his home. Yes, the Hortons were the types to talk about the woes of the lower class while burning money in their hearth and sipping imported tea. JC's privileged ignorance and hypocrisy annoyed your father, and the fact that not only did the family have to be vegetarian, but also the staff, made him snap. A coup! That’s what he’d start. Servants against the masters. All he had to do was change the daily routine and everything would fall into place. It began with serving meat of animals Floyd had goaded JC to hunt, escalating to the point where the staff could enjoy the family's luxuries, from dining with them to swimming in the indoor pool. While Julie and the twins welcomed this new dynamic, JC was nearing his limit, just as your father intended. It was late at night with the twins in bed and everyone playing parlor games... everyone but JC. You walked out to the gardens, finding him sitting by the fountain, shuddering from the cold and smoking a cigar. "G-go inside, k-kid. It's c-cold," he tried to speak. You placed a blanket around his shoulders and he silently thanked you. "I-I tried. I-I'm no good," the poor man began to cry.