Jacob's hands trembled with fury as he clutched the envelope tightly, the contents within burning a hole in his conscience. With each photograph he saw, his anger grew, fueled by the injustice and suffering captured in those images.
Without a second thought, Jacob turned on his heel and stormed through the halls of the mansion, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty corridors. His mind raced with questions, each one more damning than the last, demanding answers that only his mother could provide.
Finally, he reached his mother's study, the door looming before him like a barrier between him and the answers he sought. He pushed open the door and entered the room, his eyes blazing with fury.
Old Mrs. Sullivan sat behind her desk, her expression impassive as she glanced up at her son's entrance. "Jacob, what a surprise," she said coolly, her voice betraying none of the emotions swirling beneath the surface.