Four years later —
It was one of the usual fine evenings.
Mr. Jones noted the time on his watch, nodded to himself, then turned toward the maid.
"It's time. Prepare the snacks and send them to Little Miss's room."
The maid nodded immediately and headed towards the kitchen.
This was routine by now —evening snacks for the little, adorable Winslow princess —Elara Winslow, age: four, chaos level: catastrophic.
Mr. Jones sighed fondly. "She must be painting again," he murmured. "Or experimenting."
The maid froze as if a chill ran down her spine. "E-Experimenting?"
Mr. Jones gave her a grim, sympathetic look. "Yes. Brace yourself."
Before the maid could ask what he meant, the front door slammed open.
Bang!
Jason stormed in, hair messy, glasses askew, and face burning red with fury.
"I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING SACRED IN MEDICINE — THIS CHILD IS A MENACE!"
Mr. Jones didn't even blink. "Young Miss again?"
