The day had been long and exhausting for Mr. Adam. His company had processed an overwhelming number of new goods and shipments, and his schedule had been jam-packed with high-level appointments, decisions, and negotiations. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the city skyline, he finally decided to call it a day.
Secretary Kim, ever punctual and prepared, had already arranged a sleek black sedan to be waiting outside. Moments later, Mr. Adam and Secretary Kim settled into the back seat, the driver smoothly pulling into the evening traffic.
The atmosphere was quiet, filled with the faint hum of the engine and the soft jazz playing on the car stereo, until Secretary Kim's phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he smiled.
"Hello sweetheart," he answered warmly.
A tiny, excited voice came through the speaker. "Hello, Papa! Are you coming home today?"
"Yeah, of course! Why wouldn't I? It's my princess' birthday!"
"Did you buy my gift?"
Secretary Kim froze for a second. His smile faltered.
"Yeah... I bought you a gift," he said, lying with a soft chuckle to cover up his guilt.
"Okay! Get home soon. Bye! Love you!"
"Love you too." He ended the call and lowered his phone.
Mr. Adam raised an eyebrow. "Was that your daughter, Tricia?"
"Yeah," Secretary Kim nodded. "She's turning ten today."
"Then why did you lie to her?"
"I was just too busy today. I forgot to pick something up."
Mr. Adam shook his head with a knowing look. He turned to the driver.
"Go to Adam's Shopping Empire."
Secretary Kim looked at him, startled. "Sir? It's late already."
"We need to get your daughter a gift. Besides, I didn't prepare one either. We can shop together."
Touched, Secretary Kim smiled faintly. "You didn't have to do that, sir. I could've picked something up on the way."
"It's alright," Mr. Adam said. "Sometimes the little gestures matter more."
As the car rolled toward the mall, Secretary Kim turned on his tablet to review the day's data. But something caught his eye. He stilled, staring at the screen.
"Is something wrong?" Mr. Adam asked.
"Do you remember a lady who came to your office crying some years ago? She needed help to pursue her dream of becoming a musician."
Mr. Adam frowned thoughtfully. "You'll need to narrow that down. I've helped a lot of crying ladies."
"This one needed five million won to attend a music school. Her father was against her dreams."
Mr. Adam snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes. A young woman. Talented voice. I helped her enroll. Why?"
"She's a huge star in Europe now. I saw a video of her interview. She called you her savior. She said you were the only reason she'd ever come back to Korea."
"Really? That's good news. I'm happy for her. She was brave enough to follow her dream without her family's approval. I wish William had that kind of clarity..." Mr. Adam said, his voice trailing off.
The car pulled into the private entrance of Adam's Shopping Empire. Inside, the mall was quiet and glowing under warm lights. Mr. Adam and Secretary Kim made their way through the elegant aisles, picking out designer clothes, shiny shoes, a handmade doll set, and a sleek learning tablet for Tricia. They laughed and chatted lightly, carrying bags that soon filled the arms of two assistants.
By the time they were done, the sky was dark and quiet. The car dropped Secretary Kim off first. He bowed in gratitude, promising to send a photo of Tricia with her gifts.
Mr. Adam finally returned home. He didn't even think to ask about William. The boy was rarely around—a playboy by habit, often partying and rarely seen before late mornings. But as he entered the mansion, he paused.
There, sitting silently on the stairs that led to the upper floor, was William. His clothes were soaked through, his hair clinging to his forehead, and his eyes downcast. Faint tear stains were visible on his cheeks.
Mr. Adam's expression shifted. He walked closer.
"William? What happened to you?"
Silence.
He turned to the maid. "What happened to him?"
The maid bowed lightly. "Sir, he's been like that since he came in. He hasn't said a word."
"When did he get here?"
"Before evening, sir."
That was unlike William. He was never home this early. Mr. Adam stepped forward again.
"William, talk to me. What's going on?"
Without a word, William stood, walked past him, and went upstairs. The door shut behind him.
Mr. Adam stood still for a moment.
"It's better to leave him for now, sir," the maid advised gently. "He may need some time. Maybe tomorrow, he'll speak."
"You're right," Mr. Adam murmured. He sighed and made his way to his room.
After a brief shower, he collapsed onto the bed. The weight of the day and the surprise at seeing William in such a state. But exhaustion won.
Within minutes, he drifted into a deep sleep, unaware of the storm that was quietly building inside his son's heart upstairs.
Upstairs, William sat silently, his soaked hoodie clinging to his skin as cold beads of water dripped down his forehead.
His eyes were fixed on a photo frame—an old picture of his mother, smiling brightly in a garden they once visited. He took a deep breath, but it didn't steady him. His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed over the glass.
Tonight had almost ended his life.
He didn't want to tell anyone—not the maids, not his father who would call him names for getting into trouble recklessly. Only he knew the terror he had faced that evening.
He'd just come back from one of his usual reckless nights—a wild party thrown at a high-end rooftop bar in Gangnam. Booze, women, noise. The usual chaos that defined his lifestyle.
But this time, it hadn't ended with kisses and champagne.
At that party, he'd had a heated argument with a guy he once called a close friend—Ricky, a freeloading parasite who often tagged along for the perks of knowing William Adam. He'd discovered Ricky had scammed him, stealing over five thousand yuan from one of his side accounts. It wasn't the money that stung—it was the betrayal.
When William confronted him, Ricky laughed. "What do you care, rich boy? You don't even know what hard work is."
Then came the fight. Heated, violent, humiliating. People held them back. Cameras flashed. William stormed out, face flushed with rage, adrenaline high, and his ego shattered.
As he drove off alone in his sleek black coupe, someone rammed him from behind near an underpass. Still blinded by fury and alcohol, he jumped out—only for two masked men to grab him, shove him into the backseat of his own car, and take over the wheel.
They drove him to an abandoned warehouse on the city's edge. There, the real nightmare began.
He was tied. Beaten. Cold water dumped over him in buckets. Repeated threats. Blood on his collar. His jaw aching.
They demanded a ransom.
His first instinct was to call his father. Mr. Adam, the man who always cleaned up his messes.
But the call didn't go through. He called again and again.
No answer.
That was when panic crept in. Maybe his father had finally had enough. Maybe this time, he wouldn't pick up. Maybe… this was the end.
In desperation, he used the burner phone the kidnappers gave him and called one last number—Veronica.
The only girl he trusted. The only girl he had ever liked. A public figure, a model with international clout, the heiress of a wealthy family. But more than that—she was real to him.
Her voice was laced with worry when she picked up.
"William?! Where are you—what happened?!"
He couldn't say much, but she understood quickly. And she acted fast. Within twenty minutes, she transferred three times the ransom.
Only then did the men cut him loose. But they took his car.
By the time he stumbled out of a random taxi and reached the mansion gates, his body ached with bruises. He paid the driver without a word and walked inside, dripping wet. The maids did gasped when they saw him, but he brushed them off. He was angry.
He couldn't bring himself to go to his room.
Instead, he sat on the staircase, right where it all sank in. His body trembled—not from the cold, but from everything that happened.
All the late nights, the partying, the girls, the fast cars, the arrogance—it all felt… empty.
This was his life.
And his father? Not a single answer.
He stared down at his bruised knuckles and whispered to no one,
"Did he ignore me on purpose? Or am I really just that useless to him now?"
For years, his father had warned him.
"You're reckless."
"You treat this family name like it's a joke."
"You'll ruin everything I've built."
"You'll never be ready, will you?!."
William had always laughed those words off, cracking a bottle, kissing a different girl each week, spending millions like play money.
But tonight?
Tonight he almost died__again. But that day's torture was too much. And no one knew. Not even the man who brought him into this world. Instead, he brushed it off when he had left without answering him.
He remembered the time when his mother was alive. If he was upset and lock himself in his room refusing to talk to anyone, she would stay at his door until he is ready to talk. But his father only cared about him being the future heir.
He looked at his mother's picture again. "Mom… I'm so lost." He said his voice barely above a whisper.
After staring at his mother's picture for what felt like forever, William finally exhaled and lowered the frame onto his desk. He ran a hand through his damp hair and leaned back on the chair. His muscles still ached, but the emotional exhaustion was heavier.
He glanced at the table where his phone had been charging. The screen lit up with missed notifications—three missed calls.
Veronica.
He picked it up immediately and called her back. The moment she answered, her voice came through the line—soft, anxious, and full of concern.
"William? Are you okay?"
He sighed. "Yeah… I'm alright."
"You didn't call back. I was scared out of my mind. What happened? Are you hurt? Have you gotten home? Did they—?"
"I'm okay now," he said, voice low. "I'll explain everything when I see you tomorrow. I promise."
There was a pause, and then her voice softened even more.
"William… I couldn't just sit and watch them harm you. I had to do something. You don't need to thank me."
"But I do," he insisted. "And I will refund the money. Every last cent."
"No," she said firmly. "You won't."
He blinked. "What?"
"It wasn't just money. It was a favor… from your future wife," she said playfully, though her tone carried sincerity.
William couldn't help but smile, a rare genuine curve to his lips. He closed his eyes and let her voice soothe him.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"Just take care of yourself, alright?" she said, her voice soft again. "Don't stress to much."
"I won't."
"Alright. Sleep well, Will. Love you."
"Love you too."
The call ended.
He stared at the phone for a moment, then set it back on the table beside the picture frame. For a brief second, he felt the chaos of the day slip just slightly off his shoulders.
Dragging his tired body to the bathroom, he stripped out of his damp clothes and stepped under a hot shower. The warmth stung his bruises but relaxed his tense muscles. As the water ran down his back, he tilted his head toward the ceiling and let it wash away the memories—at least for tonight.
After his shower, he threw on a black T-shirt and joggers, went downstairs, and grabbed a small snack from the kitchen. He wasn't hungry, but the silence in the house made the soft crunch of a biscuit and the warmth of hot milk feel oddly comforting.
Back upstairs, he turned off the lights and crawled into bed. The sheets felt cold at first, but they were better than the abandoned building floor and better than the echo of Ricky's betrayal.