chapter 7
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They arrived at an abandoned warehouse, its rusted walls groaning against the wind. Inside, the air was damp, heavy with the stench of dust and decay. In the center of the vast, dimly lit space sat an old man, tied to a metal chair. His wrists were bound tight, his face bruised and bloodied.
Jaden stepped forward, his footsteps echoing ominously through the hollow chamber. He pulled a chair up and sat down directly across from the man, silent.
He didn't speak.
He simply watched.
His arms rested calmly on the armrests, fingers steepled beneath his chin to form a triangle. His sharp gaze bore into the old man with such intensity, such quiet malice, that it drained the color from the man's face.
In that moment, Jaden didn't look like a businessman. He didn't even look human. He looked like judgment itself.
The old man trembled violently. Then, with a sudden wail, he began to beg.
"Please! I—I swear I didn't mean to! Let me go! Please, I'm begging you—!"
The shrillness of his voice pierced the air like shattered glass. Jaden flinched slightly, rubbing his ear with irritation.
A bodyguard stepped forward from the shadows behind him, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he raised a gun and pressed it against the old man's temple.
The room went deathly quiet.
The old man clamped his mouth shut, choking on his own sobs.
And Jaden… simply smiled.
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"Where is the item I've been asking for?" Jaden asked, his tone light, almost casual, as he leaned back in his chair. A friendly smile curved his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. He crossed one leg over the other, as if this were a pleasant conversation over tea rather than an interrogation in a forgotten warehouse.
The old man shuddered.
His throat tightened with fear, sweat beading on his wrinkled brow. He didn't want to answer—every instinct screamed at him to keep silent. But the man sitting across from him wasn't just dangerous… he was death cloaked in silk.
Jaden's presence suffocated the room.
The old man's loyalty wavered. The treasure… it wasn't in his possession anymore. He had given it —to someone who barely counted as family to keep. She was just an adopted granddaughter of his brother—not even blood. She barely stayed with them. Let her deal with it.
And besides… he had others. Other secrets. Other treasures. This one? He could afford to lose it.
His lips quivered as he finally broke the silence.
"I… I gave it away. To someone else."
Jaden's smile didn't falter. But the room grew colder.
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The guard holding the gun narrowed his eyes. His voice was sharp, leaving no room for lies.
"Who is the girl? What's her name?"
The old man swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "She's the newly adopted granddaughter of my brother. I—I gave it to her. She has it now."
"Where is she?" the guard pressed.
The old man hesitated for a breath, then whispered, "Green City. She's in Green City right now."
A silence followed.
Then Jaden rose slowly from his seat, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. His gaze remained fixed on the old man, his expression unreadable.
"Good," Jaden said simply, his voice low and smooth.
The old man slumped in the chair, relief and fear tangling in his chest.
But Jaden was already turning, his eyes gleaming with something cold and final.
"Let's go," he said to the guards, and without another glance, walked out of the warehouse, the echo of his footsteps trailing behind like a quiet threat.
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Jaden had always known who she was. All these years, he hadn't been idle—he had been watching, waiting, tracking her in silence. He knew she had built a new life, that she had found another family. The thought alone made him scoff.
She got herself another family… and forgot about me.
Heartless.
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Time had changed Liya.
She had blossomed, quietly and steadily. After completing her studies, she had carved a name for herself as both a designer and a cartoonist—two fields she had once only dreamed of mastering. It hadn't been easy, but she was endlessly grateful she'd accepted the job offered by Mr. Denis back then. Without him, she wouldn't have come this far. He'd believed in her when she barely believed in herself.
Now, she was preparing for the company's anniversary celebration—an event she had been personally selected to organize by the CEO. It was a big responsibility, but Liya had always taken pride in doing her work well.
Still, her days weren't just filled with meetings and sketches.
Two small voices—sometimes giggling, sometimes crying—anchored her heart in ways no career ever could. Her twins. Her light.
When she'd first learned she was pregnant, she hadn't expected twins. The news had overwhelmed her, but now, she couldn't imagine life without them. They were her reason to wake up in the morning and her lullaby at night.
Although… one of them, the boy, had been harder to bond with.
She didn't know why, but his presence stirred something in her—a discomfort, a hesitation. Perhaps it was his eyes… or maybe the way he watched her quietly when she thought no one was looking. At first, she had kept her distance, offering love to both children but unknowingly holding a part of herself back from him.
But slowly, he had started to creep into her heart—through small gestures, soft laughs, the way he clung to her shirt when he was sleepy. She was sure that, with just a bit more time, that last door in her heart would open fully.
For now, she had work to finish.
She glanced at the time.
If she wrapped up soon, she'd still make it in time to pick them up from school.
And so, with a soft sigh and a fond smile tugging at her lips, Liya returned to her sketches—her mind already drifting to the tiny arms that would soon wrap around her waist in greeting.
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