twelve

Chapter 12: Hatred

His phone vibrated in the pocket of his black jeans, breaking into his thoughts like a jolt of electricity. The soft hum it made wasn't loud, but in the stillness of his room, it sounded deafening. He reached down slowly, more out of instinct than intention, and pulled it out. The screen lit up.

He didn't need to guess. The name staring back at him confirmed it all — JP.

The one and only.

His grandfather.

The chairman of Black Corporation.

The man he'd successfully avoided for what felt like forever.

A storm of emotions he'd buried deep came rushing up his throat like bile. Just seeing that name again sent a cold shiver down his spine. JP wasn't just his grandfather; he was the shadow behind almost every dark chapter of his life. The man everyone bowed to. The one who made decisions like slicing paper, without emotion or hesitation.

Will's thumb hovered over the green icon on the screen, his face blank but his heart a warzone. Should he answer? Should he not? He kept staring, debating with himself in silence, as if the phone was counting down with every vibration. He didn't realize how long he stood there until the ringing stopped abruptly and the screen went dark again.

The call had ended.

He let out a breath he hadn't even noticed he was holding.

For a brief moment, his thumb twitched, tempted to hit the call-back button. But he didn't. His hand slowly dropped to his side, the phone still in it, screen now lifeless. He turned around and walked toward the window without thinking. The moon was out in full, sitting high in the sky like a glowing, watchful eye. The silver light flooded the room in a soft, eerie glow. He stood there, unmoving, staring into the night like it held answers.

The silence in the room was heavy. Almost punishing.

Then, without warning, the door swung open. A gust of cool air followed, and in stumbled Tony, breathless, panting like he'd just sprinted across the city. His shirt was sticking to his back, and sweat clung to his forehead.

"Boss," he panted, leaning forward with his hands on his knees for a second before straightening up. "JP has been calling me for the past thirty minutes. Nonstop. He's calling everyone. He knows you're in town."

Will didn't move. He kept his back turned, his gaze still fixed on the moon outside.

"You have to answer him and talk to him," Tony said, his voice steadier now, but still urgent. "You can't keep dodging him. It's not going to work forever. He's JP — you know better than anyone that he doesn't back off. And now that he knows you're here, he's going to keep pushing."

Will didn't need to hear it. He already knew.

He knew.

He'd known from the moment he stepped foot back in the city that it was only a matter of time before his grandfather caught wind of it. JP always knew everything. Nothing slipped past him. That was one of the reasons Will hated him so much.

And hate wasn't even the strongest word for it.

He clenched his jaw. His hands balled into fists at his sides, but he still didn't turn around.

Tony's voice softened. "You can't avoid him forever."

That part stung a little. Because it was the truth. Will was avoiding him. Not out of fear — never fear — but out of resentment. Out of rage. Out of pure, undiluted bitterness that had brewed inside him for eight long years.

Eight years.

Eight years since everything changed.

Eight years since his world flipped.

Eight years since JP made a choice that tore him apart, and Will had never looked at him the same since.

So no, he didn't want to speak to him.

He didn't want to hear that voice that sounded like cold steel.

He didn't want to hear apologies that were years too late — if any were coming at all.

But he also knew Tony was right.

There was only so much running a man could do, and Will was getting tired of sprinting from a past that always managed to catch up.

Still staring at the moon, Will let the silence stretch, refusing to give an answer. But deep inside, he knew — the phone would ring again. And next time, maybe he wouldn't let it go unanswered.