The small rented house felt even more stuffy that night.

The paint on the walls was starting to peel. An old fan whirred softly in the corner of the room.

Moana sat on a plastic chair near the dining table, clutching her cell phone tightly.

She had been trying to reach her father since that afternoon.

But the line was still dead.

And that was starting to make her stomach churn.

Mrs. Freddy paced back and forth, smoking nervously.

"Try calling again."

"I already did!" Moana snapped angrily. "It’s still dead!"

Her mother clicked her tongue in frustration.

"He’s probably just drunk and sleeping somewhere."

"But he didn’t come home last night."

"Well, he does that all the time."

Moana fell silent immediately.

Because that was true.

Mr. Freddy did often disappear for an entire night because of drinking or gambling.

But for some reason...

This time felt different.

The image of Sean in the Weasley Group lobby kept popping into her head.

That cold stare.

The way the man spoke.

And his blank expression that sent chills down her spine.

Mrs. Freddy finally plopped down roughly on the worn-out sofa.

"It’s all Sean’s fault."

Moana glared at her.

"Don’t keep blaming him."

"What?"

"We’re the ones who ruined ourselves."

That remark offended her mother.

"Watch your mouth!"

Moana let out a bitter little laugh.

"Dad keeps gambling." Her breathing grew heavy. "Mom’s always drunk and borrowing money left and right." Her eyes reddened. "Sean used to spend a lot of his money to cover all that."

Silence.

Mrs. Freddy clenched her jaw.

But she didn’t deny it.

Because that was the truth.

The luxury apartment had been repossessed.

The car had been towed.

Now they were back living in a small rented house where they were even behind on the rent.

Moana bowed her head, holding her head in exhaustion.

"I went to Sean’s office earlier..."

Her mother immediately turned to look at her.

"And?"

"He kicked me out."

Silence again.

And slowly...

That fear resurfaced in Moana’s chest.

"I don’t know why..." she whispered softly. "...but I’m afraid of him now."

Mrs. Freddy immediately snorted derisively as she flicked cigarette ash onto the floor.

"What are you afraid of?" she said sharply. "Sean’s just a rich guy who’s panicking."

Moana shook her head slowly.

"It’s not like that..."

She recalled Sean’s gaze in the lobby earlier.

Empty.

Cold.

Like a man who no longer cared about anything.

And that was what was most terrifying.

Mrs. Freddy stood up and opened the nearly empty mini-fridge.

It contained only a few bottles of cheap beer and chili sauce.

"Damn it..." she grumbled irritably. "What are we going to eat tomorrow?"

Moana closed her eyes for a moment.

Her head was spinning even more.

Back then...

When Sean was still with them...

Bills were never a concern.

The house was always full of food.

Her father’s drinking was paid for.

Her mother’s gambling was quietly covered up.

And Moana had grown so used to living comfortably that she didn’t realize how fragile it all really was.

Now?

Everything collapsed all at once.

"Sean must have done this on purpose to destroy us," Mrs. Freddy muttered, filled with hatred.

Moana let out a small, bitter laugh.

"We’ve been destroyed for a long time, Mom."

That sentence made the room fall silent for a few seconds.

Then suddenly—

SMASH.

Mrs. Freddy slammed the refrigerator door shut roughly.

"If anything happens to your father..." her breath was rough, "...I’ll go to the media."

Moana turned her head immediately.

"The media?"

"Yes!" Her eyes went wild with emotion. "I’ll expose everything about Sean!"

Moana felt anxious right away.

Because she knew her mother wasn’t the type to think things through.

If that woman started talking to reporters while drunk...

Everything could get even more chaotic.

"Don’t do that yet," Moana said quickly.

"Why?!"

"Because if Sean really is involved..." Moana’s breath caught slightly, "...we could be in danger."

Mrs. Freddy immediately laughed derisively.

"In danger?" She pointed at the cramped rental house. "Look at our lives now!"

Moana fell silent.

Her eyes began to burn again.

Because, unfortunately...

Her mother wasn’t entirely wrong.

They really had hit rock bottom.

Just then...

Moana’s phone suddenly vibrated.

An unknown number.

Moana stared at the screen for a few seconds before slowly picking it up.

"Hello?"

No answer.

Just the faint sound of breathing on the other end.

Moana immediately got goosebumps.

"Hello?"

Then—

Click.

The call ended abruptly. The room suddenly felt much colder.

******

It was getting late.

Outside, a light drizzle was still falling, dampening the street in front of the small rented house.

The living room lights were dim.

The old television was still on, though no one was really watching it.

Moana sat quietly on a plastic chair, clutching her phone tightly.

She had tried to call her father countless times.

Still no answer.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Freddy was growing anxious because she was running low on cigarettes and their money was almost gone.

"What are we going to eat tomorrow..." she grumbled irritably as she opened the lid of the nearly empty fridge.

Moana didn’t answer.

Her mind was full.

Of Sean.

Of that man’s cold stare from earlier that afternoon.

Of the way Sean spoke as if Freddy’s life meant absolutely nothing.

And the more she thought about it...

The more her chest felt tight.

"You shouldn’t have yelled at Sean earlier," her mother scolded suddenly.

Moana immediately looked up in disbelief.

"Huh?"

Mrs. Freddy clicked her tongue.

"If he still feels sorry for us, at least he could still help find your father."

Moana let out a bitter little laugh.

"Sorry?"

She stood up slowly.

"Sean is sick of this family, Mom."

Silence.

And unfortunately...

That was indeed true.

For years, Sean had paid for all their messes.

Freddy’s debts.

Hospital bills.

Gambling.

Alcohol.

The apartment.

The car.

And in return?

Freddy went and sold Sean’s personal story to the media.

Moana closed her eyes for a moment.

Tired.

So tired.

"I saw his eyes just now..." she whispered softly.

Her mother frowned.

"Whose eyes?"

"Sean’s."

Silence for a few seconds.

"He looked like a man who’s completely broken."

The words hung heavily in the small room.

Mrs. Freddy finally sat down on the worn-out sofa, exhaling a long stream of cigarette smoke.

"If Freddy really made Sean angry..." the woman began to look anxious now, "...he might get beaten up by someone."

Moana slowly turned her head.

And for the first time that night...

That terrifying thought formed fully in her mind.

It wasn’t just fear.

It wasn’t just suspicion.

Rather, it was the possibility that something far worse had indeed already happened.

She looked at her phone screen again.

Dark.

No messages.

No calls.

No news whatsoever from her father.

And for some reason...

That night felt incredibly long for Moana.

*******

The next morning...

The Texas sky was still overcast as Moana and Mrs. Freddy stepped out of an old taxi in front of the South District Police Station.

The building wasn’t very big.

The paint on the walls was faded.

A few patrol cars were parked out front.

Moana stood still for a few seconds, clutching her bag tightly.

She had barely slept all night.

Meanwhile, her mother looked disheveled, her face tired and her emotions still raw from the night before.

"Let’s hurry," Mrs. Freddy grumbled. "I hate being in places like this."

They entered the police station, which felt cold and bustling with the sounds of ringing phones and computer keyboards.

A female officer at the front desk looked up.

"Can I help you?"

Moana swallowed quietly.

"We’d like to report a missing person."

The officer immediately grabbed a form.

"Since when?"

"He hasn’t come home for two nights," Moana replied quickly.

"Name?"

"Freddy Sullivan."

The officer began typing.

"Age?"

"Fifty-nine."

"Occupation?"

Moana fell silent for a moment.

Mrs. Freddy answered curtly instead,

"Unemployed."

The female officer nodded slightly, as if she were used to hearing such answers.

"Where was he last seen?"

"At the bar and the casino," Moana replied softly. "He goes there often."

The officer started typing again.

"Has the victim ever gone missing like this before?"

Silence.

That was the problem.

Freddy did get drunk often.

He often didn’t come home all night.

But he’d never gone this long without any word at all.

"Once..." Moana replied softly. "But usually he’s still reachable."

The officer nodded slightly again.

"Any debt problems?"

Mrs. Freddy snorted immediately.

"Plenty."

"Enemies?"

Moana immediately thought of Sean.

And in that very moment...

Her heart began to race.

The officer studied her face.

"Miss?"

Moana hesitated for a few seconds.

Then she finally answered softly,

"My father once had a fight with my ex-boyfriend."

"Name?"

Moana swallowed hard.

"...Sean Weasley."

The officer’s fingers stopped typing for a moment.

That name was too famous to go unrecognized.

Even some of the officers behind the desk exchanged quick glances.

Because all of Texas was talking about the Weasley family right now.

"What kind of fight was it?" the officer asked cautiously.

Moana was getting nervous now.

"Just... a quarrel."

Mrs. Freddy immediately interrupted emotionally,

"Freddy said Sean threatened him!"

"Mom!"

But it was too late.

The officer had already lifted his head, fully attentive now.

"What kind of threat?"

Moana closed her eyes in frustration.

And for the first time...

She realized this situation might escalate far beyond what she had imagined.