{Franklin’s Mansion}

Franklin sat on the couch, his fingers loosely wrapped around a mug of untouched coffee. The steam had long faded, but his thoughts burned hotter with every passing second. His eyes were distant, filled with worry and regret, his jaw clenched like he was fighting an invisible battle.

“Mom,” he finally said, his voice low,“do you think I did the right thing?”

Delilah, who had been quietly watching him from across the room, let out a weary sigh. She stood up gracefully, her expression unreadable as she walked toward him.

“No, Franklin,” she said bluntly. “You didn’t do the right thing. You did worse.”

Her words sliced through...