Michael...

The water in the indoor pool lapped gently, reflecting the soft light of the lamps. He had just been swimming with the children, experiencing rare moments of peace and safety. But suddenly his gaze fell on the corner of the ceiling. There, its red light barely flickering, hung the lens of a hidden security camera.

Everything inside freezes. Panic pierces his body like an icy wave. They're spying on my kids again, thought Michael. They're trying to get into our lives again.

Overcome with rage and terror, he rushes toward her. With a low roar, he slams his hand straight into the plastic and glass, shattering the camera. A sharp shard cuts deep into his palm. Physical pain mingles with a panic attack—his legs give way, and he abruptly falls to his knees on the slippery, cold tiles, clutching his bloodied hand to his chest and breathing heavily, trying to shield the terrified children with his body.

"Why... why are they doing this? Please go away... don't touch my children!" His voice trembles with tears and helplessness. He looks up at you, filled with fear and despair.