Charles Almodiel toyed with the whisky in his glass. He watched it spin as he sat in his study, his arm resting on the chair's armrest.
After decades passed, Kristofer escaped death. Again. The people around them would stop at nothing until his son ceased to exist.
Clenching his hands around the glass, Charles threw it against the wall.
He only had one child and the world wanted him dead.
How cruel of a fate that seemed.
Narrowing his eyes at the shattered glass and the spoils it left on the white wall, Charles Almodiel vowed to find whoever it was responsible for threatening his son.
Whoever it was, they need to stop.
Kristofer suffered enough trauma when he was in his innocent years. He can no longer turn a blind eye on the continuous attacks.
Charles used to think that silence would be the solution. That not fighting back would keep his family safe.
