"Micheal!" Aiden exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly with the relief of seeing his father's personal butler, the ever-reliable figure who always seemed to show up just when needed.
Aiden glanced down between the man's legs and saw Micheal walking steadily toward them, his expression calm but dangerously cold. The tension in the air shifted immediately.
The massive man spun around, his glare now directed at Micheal.
"He was about to kidnap—!" Aiden began, his voice faltering mid-sentence as the man swung a massive arm at Micheal.
The sheer speed and force behind the punch sent a gust of wind whistling through the narrow hallway.
But Micheal, unfazed, caught the man's arm with astonishing ease. His grip tightened, and Aiden watched in awe as the man winced, his massive frame seemingly powerless against Micheal's calm, unyielding strength.
"Bold of you to try kidnapping my young master," Micheal said, his voice icy, cutting through the air like a blade.
With a swift, calculated move, Micheal pressed his palm into the man's stomach, a seemingly gentle push, but the force was devastating.
The wind gushed out of the man's lungs in a sickening gasp. His body staggered backward, crashing against the wall.
Aiden stood there, eyes wide, his mask of cold indifference faltering in the wake of what he'd just witnessed.
Micheal had made it look effortless, as if the buff guy was nothing more than a nuisance.
The man groaned, sliding down the wall, clutching his midsection. Micheal turned to Aiden, his cold expression softening just a little.
"Let's go, young master," he said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Aiden nodded, still shaken but trying to regain his composure.
"Who exactly is Micheal?" Aiden whispered, eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at the buff guy coughing up blood on the floor.
The sight was both shocking and surreal—Micheal, his father's seemingly mild-mannered assistant, holding the man down effortlessly as he calmly called the school security.
The scene escalated quickly. A crowd began to form as the school police arrived, their radios crackling with static as they approached.
Aiden watched in stunned silence, his heart thudding in his chest, unable to reconcile the image of the calm, unassuming butler with the ruthless efficiency he had just displayed.
Micheal, noticing Aiden's frozen expression, turned toward him. The cold, detached look in Micheal's eyes softened into a gentle smile, as if he hadn't just subdued a man twice his size with a single blow.
"Come on, let's go, young master." Micheal extended his hand toward Aiden, his gaze sharp but composed, briefly glancing toward the disheveled thug now in police custody. His words carried a subtle but clear command.
"You don't want to keep them waiting," he added, nodding toward the waiting car where Aiden's father, grandmother, and aunt were surely anticipating his arrival.
"R-right!" Aiden stammered, snapping out of his daze, his mind racing as he forced himself to move.
He swallowed the lingering fear, trying to suppress the thoughts spiraling through his head.
As they walked, Aiden couldn't help but glance over his shoulder. The scene behind him felt like something out of a nightmare—the buff guy now being handcuffed, his face twisted in pain, but his gaze was locked on Micheal with a mixture of fear and rage.
And then, just as Aiden was about to look away, something else caught his eye. Tate.
Tate stood at the far end of the hallway, lurking in the shadows, watching everything with an unsettling calmness.
His face was unreadable, but there was a smile on his lips—a strange, eerie grin as if none of this chaos fazed him.
He made no move to step forward or intervene, simply leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Aiden like a predator studying its prey.
"This boy..." Aiden thought, feeling a chill crawl down his spine.
Tate's expression was too casual for the situation, his eyes glinting with something between amusement and menace.
As Aiden tore his gaze away and quickened his pace beside Micheal, that strange smile from Tate lingered in his mind, like a threat whispered but never spoken aloud.
Sitting in the back seat of the sleek, black luxury car, Aiden kept his eyes glued to his shoes, feeling the weight of his father's presence beside him like a heavy cloud. The leather seats felt too stiff, the silence too oppressive.
"Why are you here, anyway?" Aiden's voice was cold, barely above a mutter, but laced with bitterness.
He didn't look up, staring hard at his feet, feeling the space between them grow wider despite sitting side by side.
Zanier turned slightly, his sharp gaze cutting through the tense air to study his son's expression.
His suit, crisp and flawless, contrasted sharply with the chill in his eyes.
"Do I need a reason to watch my own son's race?" Zanier replied, his tone calm but distant, as if the question was an inconvenience, something trivial.
Aiden's jaw tightened as he slowly lifted his gaze, meeting his father's stare with the same coldness.
Their eyes locked, two mirrors reflecting the same frozen apathy. It felt more like a battle than a conversation.
"Yes, you do. You're never there unless there's a reason besides that." Aiden's voice was clipped, his tone almost mechanical.
The words sliced through the quiet interior of the car, thick with unresolved tension. "Besides, didn't you have a meeting today?"
For a moment, Aiden glanced at him, searching for any hint of sincerity, but all he felt was a growing distance—a void so deep that even sitting next to each other felt like they were worlds apart.
His father was more a stranger than family, someone who dumped him at his grandmother's doorstep like a forgotten obligation.
Zanier's eyes narrowed slightly, as if measuring his response. He leaned back, exhaling slowly, his words cutting through the air with a cold precision. "Well, if I wasn't here, you might've been kidnapped. And then what? You'd just be another burden."
"Burden?" The word struck Aiden like a punch to the gut, igniting a fire in his chest.
His hands clenched into fists, his heart pounding against his ribs as anger simmered beneath the surface. His lips trembled, barely able to contain the surge of emotion.
Before he could respond, the car door suddenly swung open, breaking the tension like a shattered window.
May stood there, her face flushed with worry, her breathing heavy as if she had sprinted across the parking lot.
"Aiden, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" May's voice was frantic, her eyes darting across his face as she reached out, her hands trembling slightly as she stretched toward him.
Aiden blinked, the sharp edges of his anger softening at the sight of her concern. Relief washed over him like a wave, and without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder.
"Aunty May," he whispered, his voice cracking, betraying the fear he had tried so hard to hide.
The terrifying scene from earlier replayed in his mind—the looming figure of the buff guy, the threat of danger, and the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. It all came rushing back.
May held him tightly, her embrace warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, suffocating atmosphere that had filled the car.
Zanier watched silently, his face unreadable as May cradled Aiden in her arms, the tenderness between them a vivid reminder of the warmth he couldn't provide.
A strange, unfamiliar emotion twisted inside him—jealousy. He couldn't deny it. Watching his son cling to May with such ease and warmth stirred something uncomfortable within him.
"So strange," he mused, his gaze now drifting toward the window, escaping the scene.
His mind wandered, searching for a distraction, and it landed on Bae. He hadn't been able to find her at the university, and that fact gnawed at him.
"If I were to see her today… how would I react?" The question lingered in his mind, a flicker of guilt flashing behind his cold exterior.
He knew what he had done—how he had taken advantage of her. It was a heavy stone of regret lodged deep within him, a weight that had only grown heavier with time.
Every glance at Aiden beside him was a reminder, a living torment of the guilt he couldn't escape, no matter how fast he tried to run from it.
Meanwhile, Aiden clung to May, her presence grounding him, as they prepared to leave the car. But then something caught Zanier's attention.
His mother, Latina, appeared outside his window, her expression twisted in shock as she knocked insistently on the glass.
Her hand trembled, eyes wide with fear. He rolled down the window, and her voice, shaky with anxiety, cut through the air.
"I just got a call from Grandma Elaine," Latina's voice dropped in a panicked whisper, "She's back. And… she's at Father's household right now."
The words hung in the air, sinking into Zanier like a dagger. His eyes widened, a flicker of fear flashing across his usually stoic face.
The color drained from his cheeks, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the icy grip of fear coil around his heart.
Meanwhile, May, still holding Aiden, looked between them, confused, not understanding the gravity of what had just been said. But Aiden noticed something—his father's reaction.
The normally composed, distant man seemed rattled, almost vulnerable. It was a rare sight, one that intrigued Aiden as much as it unsettled him.
"Who is this person, anyway?" Aiden thought, his curiosity piqued.
Who could make his father, this cold and impenetrable man, look so shaken, so human?
Zanier's silence was deafening, and though he didn't answer, his eyes betrayed him. The past, long buried, was clawing its way back into the present.