Chapter one: The Confrontation

Dave's POV

Dave is a tall, introverted young child with striking green eyes and well-groomed hair.

"You are a dirty brat. Don't touch me. Who do you think is your dad, Dave?" Jack scorned forcefully.

Dave drew back, tears welling up. "I am not dirty, Dad. I just came out of the washroom a little while ago," he said, trying to approach him again.

"Didn't you hear me? Can't you listen? I said don't lay your filthy hands on me again, you obese jerk. Do you know how much these clothes cost?" Jack retorted.

"Dad, they are just some random clothes. You can even touch mine, please." Dave's eyes filled with tears.

"Run along. Head to your room or the bathroom and get washed up again. I have important work to do," Jack said irritably.

"Don't you like me? Why are you avoiding me?" Dave asked.

Jack ignored him and headed into the family library.

Tears rolled down Dave's face as he returned to his room. Dave is a toy enthusiast; his room is painted blue, his favorite color, with everything from his wardrobe to his bedsheets, clothes, and even his toothbrush adorned in blue. This is where he feels at home, apart from being with his nanny, Mrs. Adams.

Mrs. Adams has been like a mother to him since birth. His biological mother is often away for work, tours, and what she refers to as self-discovery and her "soft woman era."

Footsteps approached...

"Dave, Dave?" a voice called out.

He recognized the voice. It must be Mrs. Adams.

"Nanny, I'm here," he answered.

Seeing her, he clutched onto her, burying his face in her shoulders, and sobbed.

"It's alright, my little one. The world is cruel to everyone, but remember, you will always be my big baby. It's okay, do not cry," she said, trying to blink away her own tears.

"Why does everyone hate me, especially Dad? He calls me a brat and dirt. I just finished washing up with hand sanitizer before going to greet him. Nanny, look, am I dirty?" he asked.

"No, you are not. If you were, would I be touching you? You are my perfect child, my perfect gentleman. Keep that in mind at all times. You have the cutest smile ever," Mrs. Adams reassured him.

"Will Dad ever treat me well? Maybe he doesn't like me now, but I will keep washing up and being clean to please him," Dave said.

"You don't have to please anyone, my little prince charming," she reassured him. "Dry your tears, and let's go have some breakfast downstairs. I made your favorite meal: an omelet, chicken wings, and a glass of warm milk." She took him by the hand and led him to the dining table.

Breakfast was served, and they ate together until they were full.

"You love your meal, right?" Mrs. Adams asked.

"Yes, I did," he responded, nodding firmly.

"Now go to your room. I will join you shortly," Mrs. Adams added.

Mrs. Adams washed the dining table and plates, then decided to have a word with Jack, Dave's stepfather.

#### Mrs. Adams' POV

Mrs. Adams is a sixty-year-old woman who is fearless and courageous, always putting everyone in their place. She has silky white curly hair and adorns herself with beautiful jewelry on her ears, neck, wrists, and fingers. She is always neat. Her round eyes are getting weaker but remain beautiful behind her transparent glasses, which she never misses wearing.

"Jack," she called out, searching the library for him.

"Jack, Jack, Jack!" she repeated continuously.

"Yes, Mrs. Adams? Can I help you with anything?" he asked, looking confused.

"Keep that question to yourself. I came here to warn you about your bad behavior. Were you not loved at home where you grew up?" she asked.

"Yes, of course, very much, more than you can even imagine," Jack responded.

"I doubt that because you can't stay in this home that needs peace and unity and try to destroy it by intentionally harming that child with your hurtful words. That is child abuse. We all know you are his stepfather. Can't you at least give him fatherly love? He deserves to be loved, not abandoned.

"I thought you had changed from being an abusive father. Haven't you learned a lesson since the death of your only son?" she lamented.

"Please stop it, Mrs. Adams. Do not remind me of my past. Moreover, he died of an illness. It was too late to save him, but I never abused him until his death," he retorted.

"And which child, Dave? He is grown and should learn. I am just teaching him to be strong and not a weakling," Jack added.

"And is this how to teach that, with arrogance and hurtful words? How will he learn when you spoil his emotions and make him believe he is a dirty brat? What kind of a father are you?"

"I don't blame you. I blame the mother who left her child here to suffer in your hands. Mind you, I won't let you hurt that child again, not while I'm alive and breathing," she continued lamenting.

"In the loving memory of the late Mr. Jude, may his soul rest in peace, I will show Dave all the love you couldn't give him after your demise."

"I haven't even started yet," Jack replied.

"Why are you so wicked? He is just an innocent child wanting fatherly love. What is so difficult about that?" Mrs. Adams pleaded.

"I'm not interested. You are free to play those roles like you have been doing, ma'am. If you will excuse me," he said and quickly left to take a call.

Mrs. Adams exhaled and found a place to sit. She had been acting strong for a while, covering up her illness. It's been over two years since she has been suffering from heart disease, and she recently started showing symptoms of stage 2 lung cancer.

"I need to see my doctor," she murmured while coughing. Bringing out her handkerchief after coughing into it... Blood! Her eyes widened as tears filled them. "Who will take care of Dave when I'm gone? What about my grandchild, poor little child? I have to fight this illness and stay alive amidst these endless pains and challenges," she thought to herself.

At seven o'clock in the evening, it was time for Mrs. Adams to leave.

"Are you going already?" Dave asked.

He never wished for Mrs. Adams to leave and always prayed for the time not to reach 7 PM.

"Yes, my dear," she replied.

"I don't want you to go," he pleaded.

"I know, but I have some other work to do, and my grandchild is home alone. I will come back in the morning to be with you, okay?"

"Okay, do take care then," Dave said.

"Thank you. But before I go, I will put you to sleep first. Let's go to your room while I read you some poetry," she said happily.

An hour later, Dave was asleep, and Mrs. Adams was on her way home. With the heavy downpour, she had to hurry to get home on time because of her granddaughter's phobia. Just then, a heavy thunderstorm struck.

Earlier at 9:00 AM, the news had forecasted rain, a huge wave train, and a thunderstorm that could lead to a tsunami around 8:45 PM - 9:45 PM. Precautions and warnings were given to be indoors as soon as possible and to await official notifications that it was safe to return to vulnerable locations. Mrs. Adams hadn't taken it seriously, as the weather forecast often turned out inaccurate. But today, it was accurate.

"Oh my God, I have to get home to my granddaughter in one piece. Help me, Lord," she prayed.