Exhausted from an intense work out, Tamarius made himself a turkey sandwich with a wheat grass smoothie. Eager to sink his teeth into his well-stacked creation, the depressing sigh from his nephew stopped him in his tracks. Five months had passed since they last seen their wives. The mansion now felt cold and empty. Although they had worked day and night to unravel the mystery of what happened to their family, they had been unsuccessful so far. Placing his sandwich back down on the plate, he turned his full attention to Max. "How are you holding up, son?" Tamarius asked. "I just don't understand. How could they just vanish—into thin air—this long?" Max whined. "We are doing all what we can to get to the bottom of this. Don't despair. Progress is being made every day," Tamarius reassured his nephew. "I just hate being separated from my family for this long. I was there for all of my children except the last one. This is madness!" Max complained. He looked towards his uncle who was preparing to take his first bite into his sandwich. He began to notice the physical similarities between them; their complexion, build, hair, hands, and more. Without realizing it Max blurted, "Are you my father?" Tamarius froze, unable to take that first bite. His appetite abruptly ended. "What?" he questioned his nephew. "We have so much in common... I know I said I would never question it since my mom confronted my dad, but, I just..." "Eat something, Max!" Tamarius said, shoving his uneaten sandwich towards his nephew before making an abrupt exit. Max sighed as he watched his uncle disappear around a corner. Winston, the family's butler entered the kitchen, thirsty and exhausted from his physical therapy session. He staggered over to the fridge, pulling out a cold bottle of water. He eased his aching body on to a chair beside Max who was still deep in thought. Winston sighed as his muscles relaxed into his seat. "How are you?" he asked, Max. "Winston, do you think my uncle is really my father?" "Here, you look thirsty," Winston grunted while shoving the bottle of water in front of Max and leaving the kitchen. His father, Maxwell, entered the kitchen. "How is my boy?" he asked. Max glanced up at his father, giving him a half smile. Maxwell ruffled his hair and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Everything will be alright. You know how much I love you?" "Yeah, Dad," he replied, his heart feeling guilty for his previous thoughts. "Where's your uncle? I need to talk to him," Maxwell inquired. "I don't know. He's somewhere around here," Max answered. "Okay, I will call him." Maxwell looked down at the untouched sandwich and bottle water sitting in front of Max. "Son. Eat, eat," he lightly scolded as he stepped away, pulling out his cell phone to call his brother.