MasukAmber POVSilence followed.Not the kind that invited comfort.The kind that forced truth to settle.Jason stood.The movement was abrupt, sharp enough to cut through everything that had just been said.“You said that was when I turned four,” he said, his voice steady but edged with something deeper. “But I was with them when I turned five.”A pause.“How is it that I’m missing a year?”No one spoke immediately.Mr. Sun sighed.Not in annoyance.In something heavier.“The doctors believed it was trauma,” he said.Jason did not react.But I saw it.The stillness in him tightening further.“You have to understand,” Mr. Sun continued, his voice softer now, almost careful.“You were a mischievous little boy.”The words felt fragile.“You laughed. You ran around. You charmed everyone around you.”A faint, almost broken smile touched his expression.“You were like Alice and Alex combined.”That image did not fit the man standing in front of him now.“You changed… drastically after that.”Th
Mr. Sun did not stop. He carried the story forward with the same measured control, but now there was something darker beneath it—something closer to anger. “We did not get more information at the time,” he said. “An ambulance arrived and took her to the hospital. We gave our statements to the police.” Jason’s eyes had not left him. “When we arrived at the hospital and asked for Rebeca,” Mr. Sun continued, “one of the nurses informed us that her husband had checked her out.” A pause. “Against medical advice.” Of course he had. “Two weeks later,” Mr. Sun said, his voice tightening almost imperceptibly, “we were informed by the police that she had died on site.” The room went still. “But she was alive when they took her.” The contradiction sat there. Heavy. Deliberate. “The funeral was closed casket,” he added. Jason’s jaw clenched. “But something was wrong.” Mr. Sun’s gaze softened just slightly—not weakness, but memory. “Your grandmother,” he said, “has always had… ex
Mr. Sun did not argue.He simply nodded.And for the first time, I could clearly see it—Where Jason got it from.That same unshakable presence.That same refusal to bend once a decision had been made.That same quiet authority that did not need to be raised to be felt.Mr. Sun straightened slightly, his gaze moving across the room, taking in every person present.“If I am going to tell this story,” he said evenly, “I will do so uninterrupted.”A pause.“Are we clear?”No one challenged him.Then his eyes sharpened further.“And any mention of my wife will not be logged anywhere.”That drew a reaction.Subtle—but there.He turned his attention directly to Mr. Stait and Emory.“I do not consent for this to be recorded.”The air shifted again.Not tension this time—Control.Emory glanced at John.John hesitated for half a second, then reached forward and disabled the recording system on his desk.The faint hum of surveillance equipment cut off.“Understood,” John said.Emory gave a sho
Amber POVBy the time Mr. Sun arrived at the base, Jason was unraveling in a way I had never seen before.Not loudly. Not visibly to anyone who did not know him.But I did.He could not stay still.He paced the length of Mr. Stait’s office over and over again, measured steps that were anything but calm. His hands flexed at his sides, then crossed, then dropped again. Every movement was controlled—and completely restless at the same time.The tension in the room had shifted entirely.Emory had stopped speaking.Mr. Stait watched in silence.Even the screens had gone ignored.Jason kept walking.Back and forth.Again.And again.I leaned against the desk, watching him, arms crossed, trying—failing—to remain patient.“Jason…” I warned once.He didn’t even hear me.Another turn.Another pass.Another silent storm contained in too small a space.I exhaled sharply.I was one second away from physically tackling him to the ground just to make him stop moving.And then—The door opened.Every
Amber POV“Tell me where you are,” Mr. Sun said at last, his voice steady but stripped of its earlier ease. “And I will meet you there, son. But I cannot do this on the phone.”Jason did not hesitate.“I’m at the military base,” he replied, the dryness in his tone cutting through the room.There was a brief pause on the other end.Then—“I’ll see you there, son. I’m leaving right now.”Another pause, softer this time, heavier.“And Jason… just know this.”The entire room seemed to still around us.“Everything that was hidden from you… was done for your own protection.”The line went dead.Silence followed.Not the quiet of uncertainty.The quiet of something approaching.Jason did not move immediately. The phone remained in his hand, the screen dimming slowly as if even it understood the weight of what had just been set in motion.I stepped closer again, my hand finding his arm.He exhaled slowly.Not relief.Preparation.Across the room, Emory exchanged a glance with Mr. Stait. Neit
Amber POVEmory rose from his chair with quiet certainty, the kind that did not ask for permission.“Jason,” he said, his voice even but edged with purpose, “I think it is time to call your grandparents, don’t you?”The words settled over the room like a final piece placed on a board none of us had realized we were playing.Jason did not answer immediately.He went pale. Not dramatically, not in a way that would draw attention from anyone who did not know him—but I did. I saw the way the color drained from his face, the way his shoulders stilled, the way his eyes closed as if shutting out the present might give him space to understand the past.Even with his eyes shut, I could see the movement beneath them. Quick. Restless. Searching. He was thinking—no, reliving—pulling apart memories he had once accepted and forcing them into a new shape. One that fit what we now knew.I reached for his hand.It was cold. Slightly damp.Jason’s fingers tightened around mine, firm and deliberate. Not
It did not take long for Victoria to fabricate a lie, but the explosion didn’t come from the board.It came from a live broadcast.Victoria stood behind a polished podium, composed as ever. Cameras flashed. Reporters leaned forward.“I did not intend to involve myself publicly,” she began, voice s
They called her in. No delay. No warning. The door opened ten minutes later. Amelie walked in looking immaculate — refreshed, polished, perfectly styled. Not a trace of nerves in her posture. At least not until her eyes landed on me. For a fraction of a second, the color drained from her face
We didn’t warn them. We simply arrived. Jason walked at my side. The children stayed close, Marcus just behind us — calm, immovable, inevitable. The moment we entered the company lobby, the air shifted. Whispers followed us. Phones were lowered. Eyes widened. “Call the board,” I instructed t
We drifted into lighter topics after that — Molly’s upcoming clothing line debut, fabric choices, venue rumors, guest lists. It felt almost normal. Almost. Then another call came through. Grandfather. “Molly, I’m sorry — I have to take this. I’ll call you back.” Her teasing hum was the la







