⚠️WARNING

This chapter contains violence and other sensitive content. 

Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Two years have passed since the night that changed everything.

In the basement of the mansion, only the sound of punches, gasps, and metal hitting the floor could be heard. It was midnight, but Fabio had no intention of stopping. Sweat was dripping from his forehead as the sparring continued—one, two, three—without a break.

The heavy basement door opened.

“Hey,” Gabriel said as he approached, “you should rest.”

Fabio didn't stop. “I'm fine. I'm not tired yet,” he replied as he dodged his sparring partner's punch.”What about you? What are you doing here? You should be resting. Kids who get to school should rest early.”

Gabriel frowned. He's still. “I know you're not tired yet, but let them rest first. They’ve been  here since morning.”

Fabio stopped. A “tsk” came out of his mouth before he backed away. The men left silently.

“I’ll just spar with you,” Gabriel said, taking off his jacket. “Since I can’t sleep either.”

He put on his gloves and took off his shirt. Fabio sighed.

“Don’t cry after this,” he said, with a dangerous grin.

“What am I, twelve years old?” Gabriel returned.

Fabio stopped and looked at him. “Ah… yeah. You’re seventeen, by the way.”

The fight began.

As their punches clashed, Gabriel felt a change in Fabio. Every time they sparred, it was as if he was facing a different person—without emotion, without mercy. As if his soul inside him is dead.

He understood Fabio's pain. He understood the anger. But he also knew that this was not the life Fabio wanted. He just wanted to live a normal life—but hatred had consumed him. He had forgotten what his true dream was.

“Should I stop you?” Gabroel suddenly said, seriously.

Fabio's eyes darkened.

A powerful punch hit Gabriel in his gut. He fell to his knees and coughed, sweat dripping from his face.

“Didn't I tell you,” Fabio said coldly, “you can't stop me. You're just a kid. You shouldn't be involved in my business.”

He took off his gloves and wiped his sweat.

Gabriel laughed even though it hurt. “Fuck, stop treating me like a kid. As if you didn’t do that when you were sixteen.”

Fabio didn’t answer. He picked up the towel and threw it at Gabriel. “Go study. Live a normal life. Don’t imitate me.”

*****

When the sundown came, there was a sudden commotion outside the estate.

Fabio came out, his eyes immediately glazed over. “What happened?”

“I—” Gabriel was just about to start when Fabio noticed his wound.

“Who did this to you?” he asked firmly. “And who is that kid?”

A bloody and struggling to breathe kid stood next to Gabriel.

“He’s my friend at school—” Gabriel interrupted.

“Please,” the boy suddenly said. “Mr Bagrovskiy… help my parents.” He coughed up blood. “Please…”

“Get inside,” Fabio ordered the staff. “Call the doctor.”

Inside the room, the boy explained what had happened. His name was Nate.

“I don’t know the armed men,” he said tremblingly. “They rushed our car home. I was with Gabriel because I was going to drop him off. My parents forced us to run… they were left there.” He fell to his knees. “Gabriel said… only you can help. Please…”

Fabio silently watched Nate, then looked at Gabriel lying there.

“I’m not going to help you because you asked for help,” he said coldly. “I’m doing this because of Gabriel—who got hurt while he was there.”

Nate shivered. “I’m sorry… please…”

“I’ll check the situation,” Fabio said. “Stay here. Don’t leave.”

*****

It was too late when he arrived at the place.

In the middle of the road, there were two bodies—a man and a woman—covered in blood, barely moving. He approached.

“Mr. Giordano?” Fabio said.

The man was coughing up blood. “M-Mr. Bagrovskiy…”

“Stop talking,” he said coldly. “You’re spilling too much blood on my shoes.”

This is intentional, he said in his mind.

“So,” he asked, “who did this?”

“W-what are you doing here…?” Mr Giordano’s voice was weak.

Fabio sighed. “Your son asked me.”

Mr Giordano was shocked. “My son?” His eyes widened. “What did you do to him? Don’t touch him!”

“I didn’t know he was your son,” Fabio replied. “He’s my cousin’s friend.”

“Cousin…?” the man whispered.

Mrs. Giordano pulled her husband’s hand. She was breathing heavily. “Please…” she said softly. “If… if we can’t survive…”

Mr. Giordano took a small briefcase from under the car. His hand shook as he handed it to Fabio.

“They got the wrong one,” he whispered. “They thought the original papers were there. But this is the original.”

Fabio opened the briefcase—legal documents, deeds, business records, and property.

“If we die,” Mr. Giordano said, “we entrust you with everything. And… take care of our child.”

Fabio was silent and annoyed. “What am I… an orphanage?” 

“Please,” Mrs. Giordano added, “you can have everything, but take care of him.”

A final gasp. The surroundings fell silent.

They were dead.

*****

Back at the estate, Nate sat on the edge of the bed, shivering.

Fabio stood in front of him.

“From now on,” he said, cold but firm, “you’ll gonna be staying here.”

Nate was surprised. “W-me? W-where’s my parents??”

He looked at him and left the room. Nate got the hint and cried.

From that night on, someone was added to Fabio’s world—a kid he didn’t plan to have, but was destined to have.

And that’s where Nate’s story began—as part of an organization he never asked for…