As Dick approached the front door, he took a deep breath, adjusting his expression. The information he'd pulled on Liam made this easier than it had any right to be. He knew the kid was a loner, a bit of a recluse with no real friends. Perfect.
He buzzed the intercom. After a few moments, a voice crackled through the speaker—female, tired. "Who is it?"
"Hey, Mrs. Turner," Dick said smoothly, forcing a friendly tone. "I'm a friend of Liam's. He, uh, left something at my place after we studied last night. Thought I'd drop it off."
There was a pause, then the buzz of the door unlocking. Sucker.
Dick made his way up to the third floor, his footsteps echoing in the narrow stairwell. When he reached the apartment, the door creaked open before he even knocked.
"You're a friend of Liam's?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. "He doesn't usually—well, come in. He is not home, though."
"Thanks, Mrs. Turner," Dick said, stepping inside. He offered her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
A woman stood there—mid forties, maybe late—her face lined with stress. She looked him over, her eyes clouded with confusion. But even with the years of wear, there was beauty beneath the surface, a sharpness that time hadn't dulled. Her Asian heritage gave her skin a smoothness that kept her looking younger than she probably felt.
"Liam's not here right now," she said, her voice soft but worn out. "He didn't mention having any friends at all."
Dick slipped inside, careful not to let his gaze linger too long on her. "Yeah, we've only hung out a couple of times. Just thought I'd drop this off." He pulled a random notebook from his bag, something he'd snatched on his way out. "He left this behind at the library."
She looked at the notebook for a second shrugging, "I see... He's been spending a lot of time there lately." She sighed, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "I'm glad he's making friends, though. Liam's always been so... quiet."
"Yeah, real quiet," Dick muttered, stepping further inside. He gave the apartment a quick once-over—small, cluttered, but clean enough. The kind of place where you could see the struggle in every corner.
"You want a drink or anything?" she offered, shuffling toward the kitchen. "I was just about to make some tea."
Dick glanced at the tea brewing pot, then back at her. "Sure, tea sounds good."
She turned her back to him, busying herself with the stove. Dick's eyes narrowed as he watched her. She wasn't just some old lady—there was a strength to her movements, like she'd had to do everything herself for too long. It made sense, given what he'd dug up on her. Widowed, holding down two jobs to keep the lights on, all while her kid played hacker in the background.
"Liam's lucky to have you," Dick said, letting just a bit of charm slip into his voice. "Not every kid has someone who works this hard for them."
She froze for a second, then gave a small, tired smile over her shoulder. "I just do what I have to. Liam... he's all I've got left."
Dick's fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the counter as he studied her. "Must be tough though. Especially with all that's been going on at school lately."
Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged, keeping his tone casual. "I mean, I've heard some rumors. Kids getting into trouble, messing with the wrong people. You know how it is."
She set the kettle down, her hands trembling just slightly. "Liam wouldn't—he's a good boy. He wouldn't do anything... bad."
Dick smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes locked on her. "A good boy, huh? And a beautiful mother to keep him in line. Makes sense." His tone was smooth.
She glanced at him, a bit of color rising in her cheeks, probably unused to compliments. "I just do my best," she muttered, turning back to the stove. The pot began to whistle, and she poured the tea with careful hands, but the subtle shake hadn't gone away.
"You know," Dick continued, "I get it. My mom, she worked herself to the bone too. Took care of everything, even when it seemed impossible." He didn't wait for her to respond, just let the weight of his words settle in. "It's not easy, doing everything on your own."
Dick then sighed, leaning back slightly. "Lucky for me, I managed to land a job and ease her worries a bit, by working hard. Our schedule is pretty flexible. Liam and I have a lot of free time to work."
She squinted. "Do you now?"
He nodded, feigning ignorance to her reaction. "Yeah, Liam's been working too. Figured it must be helping you out, right?"
The confusion in her eyes said it all—she had no idea. Dick kept his expression casual, but inside, he smirked. Liam hadn't mentioned a word to her about the extortion. Of course he hadn't. The little bastard wasn't helping his hardworking mother at all. Probably saving the money for some grand escape from his miserable life.
She set down the teacup with a soft clink, her hands still trembling slightly. "I... I didn't know that. He never talks about... well, anything, really."
Dick shrugged, sipping his tea, eyes narrowing as he studied her reaction. "He's probably just trying to keep you from worrying. You know how kids are. But from what I've seen, Liam's not a bad guy. Just a little... misguided."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of her son's secrets clearly gnawing at her. She stared at the floor, lost in thought, the realization that she didn't know Liam as well as she believed sinking in. Dick could see the cracks forming.
"That's what you get for working so hard," Dick continued, voice low and sympathetic. "Sometimes, you miss what's happening right in front of you."
She glanced up, meeting his gaze, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. "I try... I try so hard to make sure he's okay, but maybe I've been too focused on keeping everything together. I didn't realize..." She trailed off, biting her lip.
Dick stepped closer, just enough to be in her space, without being too obvious. "It's not your fault. You're doing everything you can, and more. A lot of people would've given up by now, but not you."
The flattery hit her just right, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. She gave a soft, weary smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. A woman like her, overworked, unappreciated—deserved some love.
"I just wish I knew what was going on with him," she muttered, mostly to herself. "He doesn't talk to me about anything anymore. It's like there's this wall between us."
Dick placed his cup down and leaned against the counter, arms crossing casually. "Maybe he's just waiting for the right time. Or maybe... he's worried you'll judge him for whatever he's caught up in."
Her brows furrowed, and she looked at him, the worry etched deep into her face. "Judge him? Why would I judge him?"
Dick lowered his voice, leaning in just a bit closer. "Well... I heard some of his deals are a little shady."
She stiffened, her eyes widening in shock. "Shady? What do you mean by that?"
He let the words hang in the air for a moment, watching her reaction. "You know how it is," he continued, his tone casual, almost conversational. "Kids get desperate. They do things they think will make life easier. But easy money... it's never clean."
She swallowed hard, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Liam wouldn't... he's not like that. He's always been a good boy."
Dick raised an eyebrow, sipping his tea slowly before setting it back down. "A lot of good kids make bad choices when they feel trapped. Especially if they think no one's paying attention."
Mrs. Turner sat down heavily at the kitchen table, her hands wringing the edge of the dish towel she'd been holding. "I don't understand... What kind of trouble could he be in?"
Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair, pretending to be conflicted. "Look, I don't want to throw your son under the bus, but there are some rumors going around. Something about him being a hacker, trying to extort other students. It's gotten messy."
Her face paled, the blood draining from her cheeks. "No... No, that can't be right. Liam wouldn't do something like that. He's... he's always been so quiet."
"That's the thing," Dick replied, his voice gentle but firm. "Quiet kids, they bottle things up. They don't ask for help because they're too proud—or too scared. And when they get in over their heads... well, it's hard to get out without making things worse."
She blinked rapidly, tears welling up in her eyes. "I just don't understand. Why wouldn't he come to me?"
Dick looked at her, pitying her. "I'm going to be brutally honest, Mrs. Turner, because I think you can take it. You're a strong woman." His voice was low. He watched her reaction carefully, the slight tremble of her hands, the way her lips parted as if ready to defend her son. But she stayed silent, waiting for the blow she didn't know was coming.
He took a breath, his next words hitting like a hammer. "Sometimes, people reflect their own frustrations onto those they care about. They bottle it up until it poisons everything. You've been working yourself to the bone for Liam, but to him, you're a reminder of the life he feels trapped in."
She blinked, confused, her brow furrowing. "What are you saying?"
Dick leaned in, his voice dropping, intimate now. "I'm saying that no matter how much you've done for him, he resents you for it. Not because of anything you did wrong, but because you're a symbol. You're the life he doesn't want."
She froze, her breath hitching. He could see the gears turning in her head, the slow realization creeping in. She didn't want to believe it, but some part of her had already felt it—the distance between them, the coldness that had grown over the years.
"I've done everything for him," she whispered, voice trembling. "I've sacrificed everything."
"And that's the problem," Dick said, his tone soft but unyielding. "He sees you breaking yourself apart, working day and night, and it reminds him of what he's supposed to be grateful for but doesn't want. You're his guilt, his frustration. You're the weight on his shoulders, the one thing he can't escape."
Tears filled her eyes, her hands clutching the dish towel tighter. "But I love him. I just want what's best for him."
Dick moved closer, standing right beside her, close enough that she could feel his presence towering over her. His voice became softer, almost soothing. "I know you do. But sometimes, love can be smothering. Especially when someone doesn't know how to ask for space."
She gulped hard, her breath shaky, and glanced up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What am I supposed to do? I can't just... stop caring."
Dick nodded, his eyes narrowing. "But you can find another way to care. Give him some space."
Her lips parted, ready to protest, but the words caught in her throat. The weight of what he was saying settled in, twisting her gut.
"I-I don't know how," she whispered, her voice cracking as she stared at the floor, her hands wringing the dish towel.