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The Kingstons' Villa

Chris’s POV

As I walked alongside my father through the grand halls of the villa, memories of my childhood flooded back. This place held a certain kind of nostalgia, a mix of fondness and resentment intertwined with every step that I took.

The man led the way with a confident stride, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. Despite the warmth of his welcome, I could not shake the feeling that something was not right; that a shoe was going to drop.

We entered a spacious study lined with bookshelves and adorned with opulent furnishings, I could not help but let my mind wander, trying to figure out why I was invited back into this place after all these years.

My eyes fell on my mother, she was sitting on the vintage couch, her face holding a small smile. Maybe this was just me and my overthinking but I always felt like she did not like me. I felt like she only tolerated me.

“Hello, Mom,” I said to her, and her smile widened, but weakly.

“Chris, my love. I see that you are
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