Arthur sat on his soft velvet sofa, staring at the framed American flag hanging on the cream wall. Sunlight poured through the large windows, illuminating the gleaming hardwood oak floor of his spacious home.
The house was quiet, except for the steady ticking of the old grandfather clock standing near the front hallway. Arthur adjusted his sweater and rubbed his tired eyes, feeling the weight of his age catching up with him.
He had spent thirty years working as a senior engineer, building a successful career and accumulating a massive estate. After his first wife passed away, he dedicated every single day to raising his two boys, David and Thomas.
He paid for their elite private schools, funded their college tuition, and helped them secure positions in top corporate firms. When David married a lovely woman last year, Arthur gladly paid for the lavish wedding ceremony at the central chapel.
He remembered standing in his sharp tuxedo, crying tears of joy as his sons embraced him tightly in the daylight. He had given them everything a loving father could possibly give, including trust funds and real estate properties.
However, six months ago, Arthur made a decision that slowly changed the peaceful atmosphere of his comfortable life. He met Evelyn, a polished woman who claimed to work in high-end real estate and asset management.
They married in a brief civil ceremony, and Evelyn moved into his spacious home along with her adult daughter, Clara. At first, Evelyn was attentive and sweet, making sure Arthur took his medication and lived comfortably in his retirement.
But as the months passed, her gentle demeanor began to fade, replaced by a cold and demanding attitude. She started asking detailed questions about his life insurance policies, his bank accounts, and the ownership title of the house.
Arthur slowly noticed how her tone shifted whenever he asked for simple help around the spacious living room. One afternoon, while feeling weak from his knee pain, Arthur asked Evelyn for a glass of tap water.
Evelyn stood near the kitchen island, folding her arms across her black designer dress while glaring down at him. Her face was completely devoid of warmth, filled with annoyance as she confronted the frail old man directly.
Arthur: You are a glass of water.
Evelyn: Do it yourself.
Arthur let out a shaky sigh, his face trembling as tears of heartbreak crept into his tired eyes. He realized then that the affection she once displayed was nothing more than a carefully crafted performance to gain access to his wealth.
He sat back on the sofa, feeling completely isolated inside the very house he had worked so hard to build. He decided he needed to talk to his sons before things got even worse in his home.
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