Chapter 1: A Shattered Beginning

The cold winds of Silverbrook swept through narrow alleyways, rattling the worn shutters of the crumbling apartment buildings. The sky hung heavy, gray clouds threatening rain, and the streets—always busy with the constant hum of the city—seemed to swallow up any remnants of warmth the sun could offer. Amidst the towering structures, a small boy stood alone, his fragile frame barely visible against the shadows cast by the streets. His name was Liam.

Liam's mother, Sarah, was the only light in his dim world. Though her face showed the wear of many years spent struggling to keep their small family afloat, she always smiled at Liam, making sure he never felt the weight of their poverty. She knelt down to him, gently pushing his dark hair behind his ear, her voice soft and soothing, "No matter what happens, Liam, you're stronger than you think."

Beside her, Liam's father, Daniel, his broad figure still strong despite the exhaustion that seemed to settle in his eyes, stood with a quiet vigilance. His eyes flicked warily over their small apartment complex, scanning the street as if expecting something—or someone. "We should go inside," he said, his voice low, tinged with an edge of unease.

Their home was a cramped one-room apartment—barely enough for the three of them. The faded wallpaper sagged at the edges, and a single lightbulb struggled to illuminate the room. The bed, more of a thin mattress, sat in the corner, while a small wooden table held only a cracked plate and a couple of mismatched cups. Still, it was home. To Liam, it was all he needed.

Sarah poured a bowl of steaming soup and placed it before Liam, her movements tender yet hurried. "Eat, Liam. You need to stay strong for what's coming."

Liam didn't ask why his parents always seemed on edge, why his father was sometimes late coming home with a look of worry etched deep on his face, or why his mother would sit by the window in silence, her gaze distant. He was too young to understand the weight they carried—the debts, the whispers in the night, the fear that one day, it might all come crashing down.

The following morning, Liam's hand grasped his mother's, her warm fingers a small comfort in the cold city air. Together, they made their way to the kindergarten school a few blocks away. It wasn't much, but it was a place of education, a place where children were supposed to learn and grow.

But for Liam, it was just another reminder of what he didn't have. As they approached the school gate, whispers reached his ears.

"Look at his shoes…"

"His clothes are so old…"

"Why is he even here? He's so poor."

Liam squeezed his mother's hand, his heart sinking in his chest. But Sarah only smiled, her eyes full of quiet strength. She knelt beside him, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "Be brave, my love. You are more than what they see."

Inside, the classroom was filled with children, most of them in brand-new clothes, their backpacks bulging with toys and gadgets Liam could never afford. He was just another quiet face in the back of the room, where he tried his best to remain invisible.

One boy, Brian, the son of a local businessman, sat at the front of the class. He sneered at Liam as he walked by. "Hey, do you even have lunch?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension.

Liam didn't respond. He never did. The whispers and taunts were always the same. But Brian wasn't finished.

"Maybe he eats air for lunch," he said, causing the other kids to laugh. Liam lowered his gaze, staring at the desk in front of him, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

At recess, while the other children played, Liam sat alone under a tree, his lunchbox empty. His stomach growled with hunger, but he didn't dare complain. Instead, he watched them—his classmates, running and laughing without a care in the world. Their lives seemed so distant from his own, where every day felt like a struggle to survive.

That evening, as he returned home, he noticed something was off. A black car was parked in front of their apartment, its dark windows hiding the occupants inside. The door to their apartment was ajar. Liam felt an icy chill run down his spine.

His feet moved quickly, instinctively, as he pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him sent his heart into a frantic rhythm.

His mother lay lifeless on the floor, blood pooling beneath her body. His father, too, was sprawled against the wall, his face frozen in terror.

Liam stood there, frozen in place, the world spinning around him. The sound of footsteps echoed behind him. He turned to see a tall figure in a dark suit, his face hidden in shadow. The man's gaze locked with Liam's for a brief moment before he turned, disappearing into the night.

Liam ran to his mother, trembling hands reaching for her, but there was no warmth left in her body. His voice cracked as he whispered, "Mom…?"

But she didn't answer.

The candle on the table flickered and died. The darkness was now complete. The apartment, once filled with the quiet hum of their lives, now felt eerily empty. The stillness wrapped around Liam like a shroud. He couldn't comprehend what had just happened. His mind raced as his small hands fumbled for his mother's pulse, but there was nothing. She was gone.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The world outside his little apartment continued, oblivious to the tragedy that had just struck. But Liam—only five years old—had already lost everything. His heart pounded in his chest as his small body trembled with fear.

The door creaked open again, and Liam spun around, his wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto the man in the dark suit. He could barely make out the figure in the dim light, but the man's presence was unmistakable—cold, calculated. The figure didn't speak, but something about his eyes… It wasn't just the face of a killer. It was the face of someone who knew too much, who had planned this all from the beginning.

Liam didn't understand what was happening, but something told him that the man in front of him was connected to everything. His mother, his father, this horrible moment.

The man's voice, low and steady, cut through the silence. "This is the price of your family's past."

Liam's chest constricted. His legs shook as he backed away from the man, his tiny hands still trembling. "Who are you?" he whispered, barely able to form the words.

The man's lips curled into a smirk. "Someone you'll never need to know."

Before Liam could react, the man turned and exited through the door, leaving behind a trail of shadows and unanswered questions.

For a long time, Liam didn't move. He could feel the weight of grief settling over him, too heavy for his small body to bear. He stumbled to the window, looking out at the distant lights of Silverbrook. The city carried on as though nothing had happened, its constant hum of life far removed from the horror that had just unfolded in his small, broken world.

Liam's young mind tried to piece things together, but it was too much. Too many questions, too many lies. Who had killed his parents? Why? Was he next?

The candle flickered one last time before finally going out, plunging the room into darkness. As the night wore on, Liam sat in silence, too young to fully grasp the gravity of what had just occurred. But one thing was clear—his life would never be the same again.

The next day, and the days after that, blurred together in a haze of fear and confusion. The authorities arrived, the apartment was examined, and the cold, impersonal world of the police moved in, taking Liam away from the only place he had ever known. But nothing would ever fill the hole in his heart where his parents had been.

And so, at just five years old, Liam's life was shattered. His future uncertain, but one thing was clear: he would find out who was responsible. And he would make them pay.