The sound of the belt snapping against my skin echoed through the small, dimly lit house. My body trembled, but I bit my lip, refusing to cry. I had learned that crying only made things worse. My uncle, a cruel man with a permanent scowl, raised his hand again.

"You useless brat! How dare you spill the water? Do you know how much this costs?!" he roared, his breath reeking of alcohol.

I was only five, small and weak, but I had long stopped expecting kindness from him or his family. Ever since my father had left me here two months ago, promising to return soon, I had endured nothing but pain. I didn't understand why he left me with these people. They weren't my family. They were monsters.

My aunt sat on the couch, watching with disinterest, while my cousins giggled. No one cared. No one ever did.

I curled up on the cold floor, my tiny arms covering my bruised body as another hit landed on my back. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as I whimpered. Would my father ever come back? Or had he abandoned me for good?

Just as my uncle raised his belt again, the front door burst open. A gust of wind swept through the room, and I heard the sharp intake of breath.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a deep, furious voice thundered.

I weakly lifted my head, my vision blurry. Standing in the doorway was a tall man in a tailored black suit—my father. His dark eyes burned with rage as they locked onto my broken form on the floor.

"Brother! You—" my uncle began, but he didn't get to finish.

My father moved so fast I barely saw it. He grabbed my uncle by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The entire house seemed to shake from the impact. My aunt shrieked, and my cousins cowered in the corner.

"You dared to lay a hand on my son?" my father growled, his voice deadly.

I had never seen him this angry before. His usual calm, composed expression was gone, replaced by sheer fury.

But before anything else could happen, another presence entered the room. A woman. A breathtaking woman, dressed in a long, elegant coat, her high heels clicking against the floor as she stepped inside.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room before they landed on me. I saw something flash in her gaze—pain, anger, and something else I couldn't understand.

She rushed to me, kneeling by my side. Her hands, soft and warm, gently cupped my bruised face.

"My son…" she whispered.

I blinked in confusion. My son?

This was the first time I had ever seen her. Yet, there was something in the way she looked at me, like I was the most precious thing in the world.

"Who are you?" I croaked out.

Her face twisted in sadness, but she didn't answer. Instead, she turned her head toward my father, her expression darkening. "Take him to the hospital. Now."

My father didn't hesitate. He scooped me up in his arms, his grip careful yet firm. I felt his hands tremble. Was he… scared? For me?

As we stepped out of the house, I saw men in black suits surrounding the area. My father's bodyguards. One of them turned to my father. "Sir, your orders?"

My father didn't even glance back at the house. His voice was cold. "Burn it down. Make sure they suffer."

A chill ran down my spine, but I didn't feel sorry for my uncle. For the first time in two months, I felt safe.

The hospital smelled of medicine and sterilized air. Bright lights hurt my eyes, and my small body felt weak as doctors hovered over me, checking my injuries. I had broken ribs, bruises all over my body, and a deep cut on my lip.

Through my hazy vision, I saw my father sitting beside my bed, his head in his hands. The woman—the one who called me her son—stood next to him. She hadn't left my side since we arrived.

When the doctor finally finished examining me, he turned to my father, his expression serious. "Your son's condition is critical. His injuries will heal, but his body is weak. Any more stress, emotional or physical, could be dangerous for him."

My father clenched his fists. The woman beside him placed a hand on his shoulder, her gaze filled with silent understanding.

Then she looked at me. "From now on, you're coming home with us," she said softly. "No one will ever hurt you again."

I stared at her, my mind still trying to process everything.

Home?

She called me her son.

Who was she? And why did her words make my chest feel warm for the first time in so long?