---
Victor's father, Magnus Blackwood, was an influential man whose success was built entirely on moral compromises. His company, the Blackwood Corporation, was known for its various investments and high-interest loans. Rumors also swirled about their involvement in illegal gambling.
All this wealth and luxury was like a double-edged sword for Victor—a weapon that could hurt not only the one it was wielded against but also the one wielding it.
---
"Why are you late? You know your father's future partners are visiting us today," his mother scolded.
"Mom, I have my own things to do, you know!" Victor replied sharply.
His mother shot him a stern look and nodded toward the large table set up in the backyard.
"Come on now. Join us and don't keep them waiting any longer."
It was true—Victor felt pride in his family, his father, and their empire. But gatherings like this? He would skip them any chance he got.
Smoothing down his soft blond hair, Victor stepped outside into the yard.
"This is my son," Magnus said, introducing Victor with a proud smile.
"Forgive me for being late," Victor said stiffly. "I was handling some company matters."
"Magnus, have you already handed over shares of the company to your son?" one of the guests asked.
"No, not yet," He replied with a hearty laugh. "But I'll soon be passing on a large part of the company to him. Of course, he'll have to pass a few tests first."
The group joined in his laughter, but Victor didn't smile. He knew his father too well to think this was a joke. Magnus Blackwood didn't joke.
Victor studied the men sitting around the table, their laughter and casual conversation failing to mask the lack of trust among them.
Magnus leaned back in his chair, casting a sharp glance at Victor, who was sitting silently, uninterested in the conversation.
"Victor," he said, his voice steady but commanding, "these people represent the future of our empire. It would be wise to remember their faces."
The guests laughed again, but Victor didn't join them. Instead, his father's words lingered in his mind, unsettling him.
---
Magnus Blackwood never gave anything away to anyone. He wasn't the kind of man to hand over power freely; he demanded that it be earned. He didn't even fully trust his own wife and children.
"What kind of tests do you have planned for the boy?" one of the older men asked in a curious yet cheerful tone.
Magnus chuckled, his expression cold and calculated as always.
"These will be small tests of strength, resilience, and most importantly, loyalty. The boy must prove that he is ready to take on power and withstand the pressures that inevitably fall on the head of a large corporation."
The men nodded in approval, their faces reflecting both interest and admiration.
Despite the warmth of the evening, Victor felt a chill creep through his entire body. He knew these "tests" wouldn't be simple business challenges—they would be something far more intricate, far darker.
From the other end of the table, Victor's mother caught his eye. Her expression was a silent warning, a subtle plea for him to tread carefully. But Victor also knew that in this family, care and compassion were luxuries he could not afford. Straightening in his chair, he steeled himself for the battles to come.
Magnus raised his glass, motioning for the others to follow suit. "To the future of our empire," he declared, his voice brimming with authority. "And to the man who will lead us there."
The men echoed his toast, their gazes sharp as they turned to Victor. He hesitated for a moment before raising his own glass, feeling the crushing weight of their expectations settle on his shoulders.
---
As the evening wore on, Victor's thoughts were consumed by the ominous "test" his father had mentioned. He could feel its shadow looming over him, threatening to unearth fears he had buried long ago. Whatever lay ahead, it would challenge not only his abilities but the core of his humanity.
He glanced around the table, the laughter and idle conversation sounding distant and hollow, like the echo of a twisted performance orchestrated by his father. These powerful men—men who thrived on ambition and ruthlessness—saw him as nothing more than a pawn in a game he never asked to play.
Victor had always known that inheriting the family empire would come at a cost. But tonight, as he sat among them, he couldn't help but wonder: would the price be his very soul?
---
Victor rose carefully from his chair, masking his unease.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice steady. "I must attend to some business outside."
Magnus raised an eyebrow but waved him off, granting permission with an indifferent flick of his hand.
Victor stepped into the night, the lively streets of the city contrasting starkly with the weight in his chest. People strolled through the warm evening, laughing and chatting, yet he felt like an outsider in his own life. His father's words haunted him, dragging him back to the memories of tests he had endured—and passed—long ago.
**Ten years earlier:**
"Shoot him! You see, he's already dying," Magnus ordered, his voice cold and commanding.
Victor's hands trembled violently, his grip on the gun unsteady. "Dad… I don't think I can. He's still alive. Maybe he'll make it…"
Magnus leaned closer, his eyes burning with frustration. "Victor!" he barked. "He's nothing. And you're weak for hesitating."
Victor's voice wavered as tears threatened to spill. "But… he loves us. I love him too."
"Such cowardice is shameful, I'm telling you for the last time - shoot!!! Now!!!" Magnus growled. "This is your last warning—shoot him. Now!"
Victor's finger hovered over the trigger, his body shaking. "But…"
Before he could finish, Magnus snatched the gun from his hands. "Pathetic," he hissed. Without a moment's hesitation, Magnus pulled the trigger himself. The sound of the shot echoed, sealing another lesson in Victor's brutal education.
---
The little boy had his hands clamped tightly over his eyes, trembling in fear. The 12-year-old was so terrified that he didn't even notice he had wet his pants.
Magnus glared at him with pure disdain. "Look at you," he spat. "I've raised a coward—a little cowardly *girl*! You're useless!"
The words cut deep, but before Victor could respond, Magnus grabbed his arm roughly, threw him to the ground, and stormed off without a backward glance.
---
Present Day:
Victor had left the house to clear his mind, walking briskly through the illuminated streets. He hoped the cool night air would calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him after that tense dinner.
The city was alive around him—laughter spilled out of bars and cafés, couples strolled hand in hand, and street performers entertained passing crowds. This was not the part of the city Victor was accustomed to. Far removed from the pristine, luxurious neighborhoods he grew up in, this area felt chaotic, raw, and alive.
He walked on, his pace quickening as he ventured deeper into unfamiliar streets. The flickering streetlights barely pierced the shadows, and the noise of the city seemed to fade into an eerie silence.
That's when he realized—he wasn't alone.
Three figures emerged from the darkness, blocking his path from all sides. They wore dark hoodies, their faces hidden in the shadows.
"Well, well," one of them sneered, his voice low and mocking. "You've wandered into the wrong part of town."
"Wallet, phone, watch. Hand them over," another demanded.
Victor's heart raced. He tried to make out their faces, but the dim light only revealed the glint of knives in their hands.
"Move fast, and maybe we'll let you walk out of here in one piece," the first one continued.
Victor hesitated, weighing his options. "If you knew who my father was, you wouldn't dare—"
"Shut up and do what you're told!" the third figure interrupted harshly.
Knowing resistance was futile, Victor slowly took out his phone and wallet. He handed them over without a word, his jaw clenched in frustration.
"And the watch," the first figure demanded, stepping closer.
Victor instinctively covered his wrist. "Leave this, at least," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Did I stutter? The watch. Now."
Victor hesitated again, his hand trembling. The watch was no ordinary accessory—it was a custom design, gifted to him by his father on his last birthday. It symbolized the rare moments of approval he'd ever received from Magnus. Giving it up felt like surrendering a part of himself.
But what choice did he have? Reluctantly, he unbuckled the strap and handed it over.
The figure snatched it from his hand with a sneer. "Smart choice."
Victor stood frozen, his fists clenched as the three figures melted back into the shadows, leaving him alone in the cold, unforgiving night.
---
The group leader held the watch up to the streetlight, turning it in his hand to admire the craftsmanship.
"Beautiful," he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips. "This one's mine. Forever. And you—say goodbye."
Without another word, the group disappeared into the shadows, their footsteps fading quickly into the night. Victor stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat.
His heart was heavy, but his wrist felt strangely light.
For a fleeting moment, he thought about going straight to his father. *He has the resources; he could get the watch back in no time.* But the thought dissipated as quickly as it came. He knew what Magnus would say—that he was weak, a coward, unworthy of the empire.
No, there would be no point in telling him. Instead, Victor resolved to replace the watch by the next day. He would commission a replica from photographs and ensure his father never noticed the difference.
As he made his way home, his mind was racing, but not with thoughts of the stolen phone, money, or even the precious watch. What lingered in his mind was the deeper realization: despite all the power and privilege tied to his family name, he was just as vulnerable as anyone else. In this dangerous game of wealth and power, he was little more than a pawn.
Victor's steps slowed as he neared home. His thoughts returned to the dinner earlier that evening—the laughter, the men's calculated glances, and his father's cryptic words. It was all part of a carefully staged performance, and he was expected to play his role without question.
But not this time.
Victor clenched his fists, his determination hardening.
"This time, I'll pass all the tests. This time, my father won't have a single reason to doubt me."
---
The incident from ten years ago still haunted Victor, vivid and unrelenting. The dog's sad, fearful eyes were etched deeply into his memory. Volley, his loyal companion, had been with him since childhood. They had grown up together, inseparable.
One day, when Volley was old, though far from his final days, Gideon proposed a hike. The idea of spending time in the beautiful wilderness excited Victor at first, but his father's true purpose was far darker.
When they reached a remote clearing, Gideon pulled a gun from his bag, reloaded it, and handed it to his son.
"Pull the trigger," Gideon commanded sharply.
Victor stood frozen, staring at his father in disbelief. "What?" he stammered, trembling.
"Do it. Now!" Gideon barked, his voice cold and unyielding.
Victor's hands shook as he held the gun. Volley stood nearby, his tail tucked and his body trembling as if he understood what was happening. Both of them pleaded silently for mercy, their wide eyes locked onto Gideon.
"Don't make me repeat myself," Gideon growled.
The shot rang out, reverberating through the forest. Volley's body collapsed lifelessly to the ground, his tearful eyes still gazing at Victor, even in death.
Victor didn't even realize that his father had snatched the gun and pulled the trigger himself. The shock had paralyzed him. Volley, his last true friend, was gone, and with him, a part of Victor's soul.
Since that day, he had built walls around himself, shutting out everyone and everything. He never let himself grow close to his peers or even to new pets. The fear of losing them—or worse, of his father using them as a weapon against him again—kept him distant.
---
The night was quiet as he finally returned home. The streets, once bustling, had fallen silent, and the building's entrance was shrouded in darkness. Only one light remained—a dim glow from his father's office.
"Come into my office," Blackwood called out the moment he heard the door open.
Boy obeyed immediately.
"You're late," Magnus remarked, his voice sharp and emotionless.
Victor nodded silently, sitting down in the chair opposite his father and fixing his gaze on the floor.
"Why did you skip dinner? Didn't you like the guests?" His tone was probing, though there was a hint of impatience in his voice.
"I just needed some air," Victor replied curtly.
Magnus narrowed his eyes, clearly dissatisfied with the answer, but chose not to press further. Instead, he reached into a drawer on his desk and pulled out a small black velvet box. Without a word, he slid it across the table toward Victor.
---
Victor glanced at the box, then at his father. "What is this?"
"A reminder," Father replied coolly.
Victor hesitated before opening the box, his fingers trembling slightly. For a moment, he feared it might contain a weapon or some other symbol of his father's brutal lessons. Instead, he found a ring inside—engraved with the initials **BW**. It didn't take long for him to realize they stood for *Blackwood*, their family name.
"Victor," Magnus began, his tone softer but still brimming with authority. "My brave man, you will earn this ring once you have successfully passed my three tests. They will measure your loyalty, your rigor, and your strength. Only then will you prove that you are worthy to wear it."
Victor swallowed hard, the weight of his father's words settling over him.
"Now, go to your room and rest," father ordered, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
Victor obeyed, retreating to his bedroom. But rest eluded him. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts swirled. He tried to piece together what his father's tests might entail, a sense of dread gnawing at his resolve.
At the same time, his mind wandered to the watch—the one stolen from him earlier that evening. He knew he had to deal with that as soon as possible. Tomorrow, he would have to make an exact copy of it before his father noticed its absence.
Sleep remained distant, leaving Victor alone with his fears, his plans, and the heavy burden of his father's expectations.
.