“Oh Lord,” she whispered, fear thick in her throat, “please don’t let anything bad happen to Papa James.”
Across town, a different kind of fear was living inside a mansion.
Jeff helped his father gently into the house.
Papa James walked slowly, feet dragging lightly across polished tiles, eyes tired and confused, as if he was trying to understand where he was.
“Papa, please sit down,” Jeff said softly, guiding him to a long sofa.
Papa James sat, pressing a hand to his forehead.
He looked around the living room as if seeing it for the first time.
“Where did you find me?” he asked weakly.
Jeff exhaled shakily. “Thank God I found you. Someone recognized you and called me. I rushed there immediately.”
Papa James rubbed his temples. “I don’t remember leaving the house.”
Jeff’s throat tightened. “You wandered out again, Papa.”
A painful silence.
Papa James sighed. “My head… it betrays me sometimes. I am sorry, my son.”
Jeff held his father’s hand. “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re safe.”
But Jeff’s relief quickly sharpened into anger.
Because there was only one reason this had happened.
Mabel.
She was the only one in the house. She knew Papa James’s condition. She knew he shouldn’t be left alone.
And yet his father had ended up sitting hungry by a roadside like someone abandoned.
Jeff walked down the corridor with controlled steps, anger humming beneath his skin.
