Mark pulled his red sedan into the long gravel driveway of his suburban home.
The sun was high in the sky, casting bright daylight across the manicured lawn.
He was not scheduled to be back from his business trip until late that evening.
A sudden cancellation at the office allowed him to return several hours early.
He smiled, thinking about surprising his seven-month-old son, Owen.
His mother, Eleanor, had agreed to babysit the infant for the afternoon.
Mark stepped out of the vehicle and grabbed his leather briefcase from the trunk.
The house was quiet as he unlocked the front door and stepped inside.
He set his car keys on the entry table next to a small wooden mail tray.
A faint noise echoed from the upper level of the two-story house.
It sounded like heavy breathing mixed with soft water splashing in the distance.
Mark frowned, feeling a sudden surge of unease deep in his chest.
He walked up the carpeted stairs, taking two steps at a time.
"Mom?" he called out, his voice echoing down the hallway.
There was no answer from any of the quiet bedrooms.
He rounded the corner toward the master bathroom at the end of the hall.
The bright light from the bathroom window illuminated the hardwood floor.
As he approached the doorway, he heard a muffled cry that made his heart stop.
He accelerated his stride, his leather shoes clicking loudly on the floor.
He pushed the bathroom door open and halted immediately in the doorway.
His mother stood near the vanity, her back turned toward the small infant.
Little Owen was slipping off the low step stool beside the tiled garden tub.
Mark rushed across the polished floor without hesitation.
He scooped the crying baby into his arms before the child could tumble down.
He pulled the small boy close to his chest, feeling the child's fast heartbeat.
"What is going on here?" Mark demanded, his voice shaking with sudden anger.
Eleanor spun around, her face turning pale as she recognized her son.
"Mark!" she gasped, clutching her beige cardigan tightly against her neck.
"You were not supposed to be home until eight o'clock tonight!" she added.
Mark cradled Owen securely, rubbing the baby's back to calm him down.
"I came home early," Mark said, watching his mother's nervous movements closely.
"Why was Owen left alone on that slippery stool?" he asked firmly.
Eleanor stumbled over her words as she stepped backward toward the wall.
"I just turned around for a single second to grab a towel," she claimed.
Mark looked into his mother's eyes and saw pure anxiety staring back at him.
He knew something was terribly wrong, and he intended to find out the truth.