Alex's face darkened as he reread the message, his fingers tightening around his phone. Fear and anger simmered beneath the surface, threatening to explode at any moment.
"Sarah… what happened?" he demanded.
"I don't know… but we're in trouble," she replied, her voice shaking.
The message was clear—and terrifying.
They know everything.
Outside, what began as hushed words quickly turned into a storm. Voices rose. Accusations flew. Rage replaced reason.
In the corner, nine-year-old Rosalie covered her ears, trembling. Seven-year-old Arabella clung tightly to her sister, her small fingers gripping desperately.
"Stop it!" Rowan cried.
But no one listened.
The tension snapped.
In a moment of blind rage, Alex pushed Sarah.
Her body fell—tumbling down the stairs with a sickening thud that echoed through the house.
Silence.
Then a scream.
"Mommy!"
Rowan's voice shattered the stillness as she stared at her mother's motionless body.
Alex froze.
"I… I didn't mean to…" he whispered, his voice hollow.
But intentions didn't matter anymore.
She was gone.
And so was everything they once were.
They ran.
Italy became their hiding place—Rome first, then a quiet town in Tuscany, where no one knew their names.
A new life.
A false peace.
Alex tried to act normal. He enrolled the girls in school. He forced routines. He forced smiles.
But grief doesn't disappear.
It lingers.
It watches.
It waits.
Rowan stopped laughing.
Arabella stopped speaking as much.
And Alex…
Alex stopped sleeping.
Because every night, no matter how far he ran—
He saw her fall.
He heard the sound.
He felt the moment his life shattered.
And one night…
Arabella stood at the top of the staircase, staring down.
Silent.
Still.
Lost.
"Arabella?" Alex called softly, his heart tightening.
She slowly turned to look at him, her eyes empty… yet filled with something far too heavy for a child.
Then she spoke—quiet, fragile… but sharp enough to break him completely.
"Daddy… if you didn't push Mommy… would she still be alive?"
Alex's world collapsed all over again.
Because this time—
There was no running.
No hiding.
No escape.
Their home was a cozy apartment in a quiet neighbourhood. The decor was simple but the natural light and views of the city was breathtaking.
In the evenings, Alex and Arabella would sit down together, sharing stories about their day. Rovan hated his father so much he could refuse to talk to him, sit down together with him just like Arabella instead he calls his father by his name, Alex or murderer. He couldn't forget what his father did to his mother. Couldn't forgive him. Each day his hatred grew more for his father.
He told his sister Arabella about how they killed their mother. Arabella refused to believe him because Alex had brainwashed her into believing all his lies are the truths. With that, Rovan stopped talking to his father and stayed silent with his sister.
He joined some street gangs so he could protect himself and his sister from their evil father. He made videos and wrote things about everything that is happening in his life, his emotions, and his life journey, the things he saw but couldn't say them out his mouth, such as how his father killed his mother and how his father murdered his best friend and kidnapped his best friend's wife. Everyday of his life was been recorded and written by him. He wrote everything, he recorded everyday and hid them in the wall of their playground (himself and his sister's playground).