The alarm buzzed in the early hours of the morning. It was 6:00 AM, and Philip reached out with a groggy hand to silence it. As he lifted his phone to check the time, still half-buried in his pillow, a surge of messages flooded in. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the last sender: Jessica, his girlfriend."Oh dear, what did I do this time around to deserve this many messages?" Philip muttered to himself, panic beginning to bubble in his chest.His hands trembled, scared to open them. He stood up from his bed and began to pace around his small, cluttered apartment, anxiety crawled in at his insides. "What if it’s a breakup message?" he thought, dread settling over him like a dark cloud. "I can't handle a breakup. I can't. I can't."After what felt like an eternity of deliberation, he mustered the courage to open one of the messages. The first one he read made his heart stop. “We are in a very big mess.”He panicked and closed the phone immediately. “What did we do?” he whispered

Philip stood in the cold, harsh light of the prison intake room, undressing and preparing to don his new uniform. He felt a rush of disbelief wash over him; twelve years stretched ahead like an endless horizon. As he changed, he couldn't help but think of Jessica. She would have moved on by now. The court's reading of his sentence had crushed her, he knew, and he could almost see the look of hurt and anger in her eyes. She couldn’t even look at him during the trial. That memory gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the life he had lost."I will try and make it up to her," Philip muttered to himself, blaming himself for everything—the crime, the ruling, the sentence that stretched far longer than he had anticipated. Twelve years instead of two. What has gone wrong? The question echoed in his mind, unanswered.Prison, he quickly realized, was not a place for the weak. The reality of his new life sank in, and he felt disjointed, unable to accept that this was his reality for the next twe

“What happened… What happened to Mom?” Philip's voice trembled as he asked.“Your mother was shot when she was coming back from selling corn,” Mr. Scott replied, his voice choking with emotion. Tears streamed down his face as he nodded in pain. He placed his hands on Philip's shoulders and began to weep profusely.“What? What happened?” Philip's voice broke. “Is she… is she dead?” he stammered, barely able to form the words.“No, no, she’s not dead,” Mr. Scott said, raising his head to wipe his eyes. “She’s going to be alright, my son,” he added, attempting to sound reassuring, though his own certainty was not sure. “No, no, it’s not alright. It can’t be. Where is she?” Philip demanded, desperation creeping into his voice.“She’s at the central hospital,” Mr. Scott replied quietly.“Let's go see her,” Philip insisted.“Okay, my son,” Mr. Scott agreed. He took a moment to compose himself, wiping away his tears, and then walked over to lock the door. Philip waited by the car, a mix of

The car sped so much that it was like a light, that was what Philip commanded his drivers to do, what ran through his mind was to find who were responsible for his mother being shot. When he arrived at the Aton empire Barry Aton was at work. “Where is papa?”he asked the head chef “Boss is at the office,” the head chef replied. “Make me a cup of hot chocolate” Philip demanded as he paced around the room, he was so angry he wished he had known his grandfather before now he wouldn't have gone through what he went through in the hands of Jessica. He wanted revenge, as he paced around and the chef brought the hot chocolate. “This is the chocolate sir” the head chef said as he saw the fury on Philip’s face. “Cool, you can now leave, tell the drivers to wash up the vehicles and set my bathing water. I want to have a long bathe”. He commanded the chef to spread the duties accordingly. When everything was set Philip got into the bath, poured himself some liquor, listened to

Philip’s mind raced as he left the board meeting. Being CEO was more demanding than he had anticipated, but he was determined to prove himself. He needed a moment alone to gather his thoughts, so he headed to the mansion’s garden—a serene oasis that offered respite from the pressures of his new role.As he strolled among the lush greenery and colorful blooms, he couldn’t shake the conversation with Barry from earlier. Clara Lewis, the detective Barry had recommended, seemed like the key to uncovering the truth about his parents’ deaths and the shooting of his foster mother. He needed answers, closure—something to put his mind at ease.Lost in thought, Philip didn’t notice Clara approaching until she spoke. “Philip, right?”He turned to see her standing there, a determined look in her eyes. “Yes, Clara. Barry told me about you.”She nodded. “He mentioned you might need my help.”Philip hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “There are things I need to understand—about my past, about wha