Ernest smiled fondly at his niece.

“Come on, Joy, let’s go!”

Hand in hand, the two kids raced off, giggling as they disappeared around the corner.

That evening, Hadley and Joy stayed at Flynn Mansion.

Morning arrived, just past six, and Hadley woke up as usual. Months spent on set had trained her body to rise early, no matter how tired she was.

Joy remained fast asleep beside her, lost in her dreams. Not wanting to disturb her, Hadley slipped out of bed and left the room quietly.

“Good morning, Miss Pearson. Would you like me to prepare your breakfast now?” a maid asked upon seeing her.

“Not just yet,” Hadley answered, shaking her head. She never felt hungry first thing in the morning.

The summer heat in Srixby had already set in, even in early June. Hadley decided to cool off with a swim in the back garden pool before thinking about breakfast.

“Alright.” The maid, who had served at the Flynn Mansion for decades, offered her a warm smile. “I will make your favorite. Make sure you have plenty.”

“Alright.” Hadley returned the smile, making her way to the back garden.

About thirty minutes later, a sleek black Bentley pulled into Flynn Mansion’s drive.

“Mr. Scott.” The maid at the front door looked genuinely surprised to see Eric.

“Good morning.”

Ernest hadn’t said a word about expecting him.

Eric gave a polite nod and stepped inside. “Is Ernest up yet?”

“Not yet,” the maid answered. “Mr. Flynn usually wakes around seven.”

Eric checked his watch, realizing he was a bit early.

“Would you like me to wake him?” she offered.

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“No, that’s fine,” Eric said. “He’ll be up soon enough. I can wait.”

“Of course, Mr. Scott. Please make yourself comfortable. Have you had breakfast? Should I ask the kitchen to prepare something?”

“Sure,” Eric replied, waving her off.

He spent a while relaxing in the sunroom, but it didn’t hold his interest for long. Eventually, he got up and wandered into the garden outside.

While strolling, memories from his years living at Flynn Mansion tugged at him. Strangely, none of it felt familiar anymore.

Without realizing it, he had wandered all the way to the back side of the garden. Ahead, the pool shimmered in the early light. Gentle ripples spread across the water’s surface.

Eric stopped, surprised to see movement disturbing the calm. Someone was swimming—this early?

He frowned, puzzled. As far as he knew, only Ernest and Locke lived there, and the maid had told him Ernest was still in bed. No one should be using the pool at this hour.

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