Chapter 6: The Dropped Roses
Chapter 6: The Dropped Roses
Inside the grand, echoing hallway of the villa, the heavy, custom-carved oak doors had just swung open. Arthur stepped inside, looking dashing in a tailored charcoal suit. In his arms, he carried a massive, extravagant bouquet of rare, imported red roses—a surprise to celebrate their wedding anniversary. A warm smile was already forming on his face.
The very moment the heavy front door clicked shut, Leo’s desperate, tear-soaked scream pierced through the thick walls of the estate.
Arthur’s blood ran ice cold. The transition from a joyful husband to a terrified protector happened in a microsecond. The adrenaline hit his veins like a lightning strike.
He dropped the roses. The expensive flowers scattered uselessly across the polished marble floor, their deep red petals bruising against the stone, completely discarded in a heartbeat. Arthur sprinted down the hallway with terrifying speed. He hit the glass patio doors with enough physical force to crack the metal hinges, bursting out into the blinding sunlight.
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His sharp eyes took in the horrific scene in a fraction of a second: his weeping son pointing frantically at the water, Clara standing frozen and pale near the edge, and the frantic, fading ripples in the ten-foot deep end.
Arthur didn't slow down. He didn't unbutton his expensive tailored jacket. He didn't kick off his leather dress shoes. He simply hit the edge of the pool at a dead, relentless sprint and launched his body into the air, diving flawlessly into the water without a single moment of hesitation.
