His father

" Damn! Man! This house is undoubtedly interesting. She has all types of ancient collections."

The moment they step into the house, their breath catches in their throat. The interior is a symphony of design and craftsmanship leaving them utterly speechless. The warm, honey-toned hardwood floors beckon them to explore further, their glossy surface reflecting the sunlight that is peeking into the room with the frosted glass window.

Every corner of the house has unique furniture, antique products, lots of fossils, and rare gemstones. As if the house is a museum of ancient arts and crafts.

" My mother collected them. She has more in her basement. I don't know how she got all of them. But it proves that she has worked hard to reach this point. But one thing I regret not to know about. How did she end up in politics? Why did she choose politics as her career?"

Her voice trembles and cracks as she speaks about her mother, and her hand reaches for a cherished photo of the two of them, a poignant moment of remembrance. The relationship between the mother and daughter was great to guess. They have lots of photos together.

" But, how did you know about me? You said you work outside of the country!"

Holding a wooden horse toy, Asher asked. His unsettled eyes have been observing every corner of the house. More than being amused by the collection, he finds the house is mysterious.

" My Mom told me about you!" Laila replies, walking towards the kitchen.

" Your Mom did?"

Laila nods, opens the refrigerator, and brings out the bottle of orange juice and two finely cut pieces of cake.

" Yes. She once mentioned you. Although it wasn't a good conversation about you. But she praised how you keep breaking laws to catch criminals. My mom was fond of your braveness."

With a soft chuckle, she pours the juice and arranges the glasses on the table, silently hoping that Asher and Marco will soon take their seats before delving into their work on the case.

"This is the first time I have heard about someone who liked me. Everyone calls me devil though." He murmurs, touching the surface of a flower vase which leaves some dust on the tip of his finger.

" Anyway, do you think you can find something which can lead us to the clue? We don't have a mailbox or dog house."

Laila takes a seat beside Marco, who is savoring his cake while his eyes remain fixed on something, his curiosity piques.

"Is there something troubling you?" She observes the frown on his forehead and follows his gaze, concerned about what has caught his attention.

" Oh. He is my father. He died ten years ago. It was a car accident." She smiles finding him intensely staring at her family photo.

" No. The person behind you three." He narrows his eyes and looks at Asher who is enjoying the coffee with deep thoughts.

" Asher!!! Don't you think you know that person?"

Hearing from Marco, Ruth whose eyes are scanning the entire house shifts to the family photo. The glass he is holding simply slides from his grip. Thankfully, Marco notices and grabs the glass before it shatters into pieces.

" Do you know Uncle Bob? He used to work for us. But he was one of the victims of that accident. My Dad and he died on the spot! He was young. We tried to contact his family but got no details about his family!"

Asher finds himself in an unexpected moment of heartache, a sensation he hasn't experienced in decades. The person captured in the old photo is none other than his abusive father, a haunting presence from his past that has resurfaced to stir up long-buried emotions.

Bob Sebastian was a husband with a cruel streak, subjecting his wife and son to physical abuse. His days were consumed by the relentless pursuit of gambling, leaving his family in dire poverty. Eventually, he abandoned his home, and til today, he never returned.

Asher never had any intention of finding his whereabouts. After all, an abuser is always an abuser in his eyes. Neither his mom nor he wished him to return.

" I don't. He looks like someone I know!" Asher lied, savoring his coffee with an emotionless expression.

Marco's eyes shift to his best friend who lied. He is not unaware of his befriend 's family's situation... But witnessing his straightforward best friend lying, he somehow feels guilty for mentioning it.

" Uncle Bob doesn't have any family. He didn't even mention anything about it. I wish he had. He had to leave the world without saying goodbye to his family!"

Laila, her gaze fixed on the photo, offers a wistful smile. The once happiest family, the cherished memories of which she held dear, now exist only in those faded photographs and the bittersweet recollections etched in her heart.

" To be honest, That accident happened mysteriously. Dad had to move to another city on that day. However, the accident happened. We couldn't understand how exact time an unlicensed truck crossed the road. Police couldn't find the driver, or that truck as well. That's why my Mom used to believe that we lost Dad not coincidentally."

Marco leans forward, his curiosity evident in his furrowed brow. "Your father, he was murdered?" he asked, a note of surprise.

" I can't say that. We didn't get any clues. But I have zero idea why Mom would say that was a murder!"

Laila's heart races as she struggles to catch her breath, the weight of her family tragedy bearing down on her like an insurmountable burden. The recent loss of her loved ones has left her not only heartbroken but also terrified, constantly haunted by the fear that she might be the next target.

" I think we should start doing what we are here for!"

Saying, Asher decides not to waste any time talking, especially when it is connected to his abusive father. He rises from his seat and begins to pace through the house. His steps keep echoing softly on the polished floors.

As he wanders, his gaze is drawn to the walls, which are adorned with an intriguing collection. It is a diverse array of artwork, photographs, and mementos, each piece telling a different story. The more he glances, the more he finds himself amused and captivated by them.

As he walks with small steps, his eyes check everything on the wall to the corner of the room, the kitchen. Upstairs, there are three bedrooms. They are like normal bedrooms. Nothing attracted him to get a clue.

All over the wall, there are hundreds of paintings. An insane collection of paintings. Don't know why, he thinks there might be some clues hidden in those paintings.

However, he almost trips over something when he steps forward to move to another painting. His eyebrows knit, glancing at the thing that he stepped on.

"This is my childhood room. I used to stay here. Mom kept the room the same as it was twenty-five years ago!"

She smiled collecting the Dinosaur plush toy from the floor. Asher continues to explore the room, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He moves further into the room, taking in the sight of all the toys, the swing, the cradle, and the shelves filled with children's books. The room has been lovingly preserved, frozen in time, just as it was twenty-five years ago.

As Asher continues to explore the room and take in the details of the beautifully decorated house, he can't help but notice the absence of flower vases. It is an odd detail in a home so meticulously designed and maintained. The absence of vases struck him as an anomaly, and he made a mental note of it.

As he decides to walk around again, his eyes catch something significant.

Asher's sharp eyes land on a scratch book resting on one of the bookshelves. The book's cover features a simple white cloud design. This discovery piques his curiosity, especially when he notices that the phrase "cloud nine" is among the listed words on the cover.

As Asher hurriedly turns to the first page and then to page number nine of the scratch book, he is interrupted by Marco, who has walked up behind him.

"Ms. Laila," Asher begins. "Can you take me to your Mom's room, the room where she spent most of her time?"

His eyes show seriousness, which leads Laila to move towards her mother's room.