Mark Blackveil

The next morning, Adam was up early, getting himself ready for work and making sure his siblings were set for school.

As he finished buttoning his shirt, Alfred squinted at him. "Is it just me, or are you actually glowing today?"

Aria nodded, crossing her arms. "I thought I was seeing things too. Spill it, big bro—what's your secret?"

Adam smirked, checking himself out in the mirror. "I know, right? I could probably be a movie star if I wanted."

The twins rolled their eyes in sync. "Alright, don't get ahead of yourself," Aria said. "We're just stating facts, but that doesn't mean you're the most handsome guy in the world."

"And," Alfred added, "just because you look good doesn't mean life's gonna hand you everything. You still gotta work hard, y'know?"

Adam's eye twitched. "Who do you little punks think you're lecturing? I'm your older brother! I should be the one giving out advice!"

Before they could argue, he chased them out of the house, all three of them laughing as they ran.

Adam walked his siblings to school for the first time in a while.

"Alright, brats, we're here. Remember, stay out of trouble, but if someone comes looking for trouble…"

"We give them hell," the twins finished in unison, fist-bumping before turning to leave.

Adam shook his head, but just as he was about to walk away, he frowned, sensing something. Without thinking, he turned back and caught a baseball flying straight at Alfred's head.

His gaze shifted to his brother, silently asking, What kind of mess are you in?

As if on cue, a group of high schoolers approached, one of them holding a bat over his shoulder with a smug grin. "Hey, Alfred, brought your big bro to fight your battles?" The leader, who looked about sixteen, taunted.

Adam's frown deepened. He glanced at Alfred, then at Aria. "So, you're being bullied, and neither of you thought to tell me?" His voice was calm, but his aura shifted, darkening the air around them.

Alfred scratched the back of his head. "It's nothing, just some stupid school drama."

"I wanted to tell you," Aria chimed in, "but Alfred said we shouldn't because of his background."

Alfred glared at her and mouthed, If something happens to Adam, it's your fault.

Adam sighed, rubbing his temples before turning to the boy leading the group. His gaze was sharp and filled with warning. "Who do you think you are, putting your hands on my brother?"

The boy's lackeys snickered. "You have no idea who you're messing with."

"If you knew his name, you'd probably piss yourself," another added.

Adam's eyes darkened. His aura seeped out, and in an instant, the boys flinched, their confidence shaken.

"I'll ask again. Who the fuck are you?"

The leader stiffened but tried to keep his cool. "I'm Mark Blackveil. And if you know what's good for you, you'll drop whatever stupid idea is running through your head."

Adam stared at him for a moment, then chuckled lowly. "I don't know if your name is supposed to mean something to me, but it doesn't. And even if it did—some big crime family or whatever—I don't give a fuck." His voice dropped, his tone sharp. "You threw a damn baseball at my brother. You put your hands on him. That's something I won't let slide."

He stepped forward, stopping right in front of Mark and bending slightly to meet his eyes. "I don't hit kids," Adam said, his voice eerily calm. "But if I hear you so much as look at my siblings the wrong way again, I'll make sure you regret ever being born."

Mark visibly trembled. Then, much to Adam's amusement, a strong stench hit the air.

Adam smirked, patting Mark's head. "Guess you did piss yourself. Consider this your final warning."

With that, he turned to his siblings. "Next time, tell me when shit like this happens," he said before walking them inside.

"That bastard… who the hell does he think he is?" Mark muttered, his fists clenching so tight his knuckles turned white. His whole body trembled with rage as he slowly lifted his head, glaring at Adam's back with pure hatred.

"I'll kill him with my own hands!" he roared, his frustration spilling into the air.

---

Meanwhile, in front of her restaurant, Gloria stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. Her eyes flicked between the clock on the wall and the watch on her wrist, irritation clear on her face.

"Late again," she grumbled. "That idiot barely got out of the hospital, and he's already back to this nonsense. I thought he'd change, but nope, same old Adam."

She wouldn't have been this strict, but Adam insisted on coming to work the very next day after getting discharged. She had told him to take it easy, to rest for a while, but of course, he refused. So she gave him a simple rule—be on time, or don't bother showing up for the rest of the week.

And yet, here they were.

"Maybe he got caught in traffic… or maybe his injuries started acting up again?" Becca said as she walked up beside Gloria.

Gloria shot her a look, one brow raised. "His injuries? Please. There wasn't even a scar on him. If anything, he got caught up in something. Again. But that still doesn't give him an excuse to be late."

Becca sighed, knowing better than to argue. "Guess I'll get back to work before you bite my head off."

Gloria just huffed, still waiting for Adam to show his face.

Not long after, Adam came running down the street. The moment he spotted Gloria standing outside the restaurant, arms crossed and waiting for him, he knew he was screwed. He forced a sheepish smile, already thinking of an excuse.

"I'm sorry, I got caught up with—"

"Traffic? Missed the bus? Some other nonsense?" Gloria cut him off with a frown. "You know the rule. You're late, so go home. Come back next week." She turned on her heel and walked back toward the restaurant.

Adam sighed, then reached out to stop her by grabbing her hand—something he immediately regretted when she turned and shot him a deadly glare. He let go so fast it was like he'd touched fire.

"I was late because my little brother was getting bullied," he finally explained. "Some kid named Mark Blackveil or whatever. I had to deal with it and make sure my siblings were safe."

Inside the restaurant, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the room. Everyone turned toward Anita, who stood frozen, a broken plate at her feet.

Her eyes were locked on Adam, her expression unreadable. Then, she snapped.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" she yelled.