Mr. Fletcher couldn't bear to look at his son's pathetic state. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Useless!"
"Now Timothy Lawson is dead, Little Lynn has gone mad, and you're lying here in a hospital bed. Your mother was so upset by the sight of Little Lynn last night that she ended up in the hospital too. This is all so damned annoying!"
"What a mess! What a complete disaster!"
With that, Mr. Fletcher turned and left.
Leaving Nathan Fletcher to cry alone in the hospital room.
*
Morning light spilled over the estate. It had snowed the previous night, and the sunlight glinted off the fresh powder on the branches, bright enough to dazzle the eyes.
A portly man stood at the estate's entrance. A red suit was stretched snugly over his large belly, covered by a black overcoat that reached his calves, giving him a somewhat more imposing figure.
He held a yellow case, about the size of his own stomach.
