The night enveloped Jonathan’s penthouse in a chilling silence. Dim lights reflected the silhouette of Harley, sitting quietly in a wicker chair by the window. His hand gently caressed his growing belly. His breath was heavy, his eyes weary, but there was a warmth radiating from his gaze—a mixture of anxiety and hope too fragile to express.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered softly, almost inaudibly. "Because you have to be born into a world like this..."Jonathan stood behind him, leaning against the wall as he watched Harley’s back. His eyes were dim. He knew that the child clearly belonged to Edgar, his rival, a product of the brief night Harley had spent with him. Yet everything was already done. And he chose to lie. He chose to keep Harley, to shield him from the outside world, including from the biological father of the child."I will stay here," Jonathan said softly. "No matter what, you won’t be alone."Harley remained silent. That wasThe sky over Saint Petersburg greeted them with a thin rain of ash from the old city’s chimneys. Raindrops danced on the windows, as if mourning the fate of the two silent figures sitting in a dark room filled with the scent of antiseptics and unhealed wounds.Harley clutched a small white blanket containing the lifeless little body. The child… their child… Just five days seeing the world. Five days of struggle. Five days of hope now frozen in time."Ed… he's cold… he's very cold…" Harley’s voice was barely a whisper, almost inaudible.His body trembled not from the cold air, but from the reality that he couldn’t fight. The surgical wound on his stomach was still wet, still feeling as if it was wide open, now worsened by a much deeper wound—loss.Edgar stood beside the bed, wearing a dark hoodie, his face paler than usual. His hand pressed against the empty incubator glass. He wanted to be angry. But to whom? God? The world? Himself?“We’ve come this far… we’ve sacrificed Martin
His voice sounded like thunder shaking the night. Command shouts, warning gunfire, and the roaring engines of aircraft warming up filled the air. Jonathan ran as fast as he could, clutching Harley’s frail body and their crying baby tucked in a blanket, carried by one of his loyal guards.Tears mixed with drizzle, blurring his vision. Behind them, Edgar chased relentlessly, crashing through obstacles, his face tense and his breath heavy. They were only a dozen meters apart. But to Jonathan, that distance felt like a deadly chasm.“STOP, JONATHAN!” Edgar shouted, his voice breaking with anger and fear. “YOU’RE GOING TO KILL THEM!”Jonathan turned his head, and in a split second, his steps faltered. His feet slipped on the wet runway, almost causing Harley to fall from his arms. Harley let out a faint scream. Their baby cried hysterically. Jonathan tried to hold on, but his body was too weak, too panicked.They almost fell—At that moment, the first bullet erupted from the rifle of o
The air inside Kingston's office felt heavy as if it was sucking in all the oxygen around it. The crystal chandelier that usually radiates warmth now casts a cold light throughout the room. Kingston stood behind a large black desk, glaring at the screen that displayed news about Dima's suicide attempt, Yuzinkhov's fury, and most infuriating of all, Harley's childbirth. Martin stood near the door, holding his breath. Kingston slowly exhaled his cigarette smoke, his eyes resembling hellfire ready to consume the world.“He dares threaten me. Yuzinkhov dares to threaten me.” His voice was low and heavy, but it felt like the rumble of a storm.Martin spoke cautiously, “Sir... this could become a diplomatic disaster. The Yuzinkhov family has connections in the Kremlin, and... Hideko has started moving into the southern territories.”Kingston turned his body. His large hand slammed the table with full force, causing fine cracks to appear on the wooden surface.“That child!” he growled. “If o
A thin fog hovers over Lake Lucerne. Pine trees stand silently like mute witnesses to a winter that refuses to pass. Inside the villa, the warm air from the fireplace contrasts sharply with the cold hearts drifting apart.Harley stands on the balcony, hugging himself. The wind carries fragments of a letter he never finished. A letter to Mrs. Lee, containing apologies and hints that he wants to come home. But now, the paper is torn, just like his soul.In the morning, Jonathan walks through the backyard with a cup of coffee. As the wind blows through the lavender bushes, his eyes catch something—a scrap of paper wedged between the wooden fence. He bends down and picks it up.The writing is faint, but he is sharp enough to read the fragment of a sentence: "Mom, I miss you... But I'm scared... I want to come home."Jonathan's face hardens. His fingers clenched around the paper that nearly disintegrated from the dew. But as he returns inside the villa, his smile is calm again. Fake, but
Harley sat on the sofa in Jonathan's living room, wearing an oversized sweater that wrapped around his increasingly changing body. His eyes were empty, staring out the large window facing a small garden with wilted roses. Autumn leaves fell slowly as if time itself had stopped moving.Jonathan entered from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a warm cup of tea, a plate of biscuits, and a newspaper. He appeared calm as if nothing was wrong in his life. Yet beneath his gentle demeanor lay an obsession that was spiraling out of control."You haven't left the room all day, Harley," he said as he sat on the sofa beside him. "I know you're tired, but fresh air is good for you."Harley merely mumbled, his voice almost drowned by his own sighs."I'm fine..."Jonathan gazed at Harley with an overly intense expression of concern. He shifted closer, touching the back of Harley's cold hand."No, you’re not fine. You’ve lost those who didn’t deserve your love. But I’m here, Harley. I will always be h
Dima sat in his dark private room, illuminated only by the dim light of a desk lamp. His hands trembled as he gripped his phone, his mind filled with boiling jealousy and anger. He knew that Edgar was still thinking about Harley, even though they were engaged.“If he thinks he can play me, he’s dead wrong,” he murmured sharply under his breath.After a few seconds of hesitation, Dima finally dialed the number he had stored in his phone for weeks. The number of someone who shared a vendetta against Edgar and Harley.The phone rang for only a brief moment before Jonathan's voice came through on the other end, sounding relaxed yet cautious.“Dima. I didn't expect to hear from you,” Jonathan replied in a flat tone, though there was a hint of curiosity beneath it.“We need to talk,” Dima said directly without any preamble. “You know why I’m calling you, right?”Jonathan chuckled lightly, almost mockingly. “I think I have an idea. But it’s better if you explain.”Dima took a deep breath, tr
The night enveloped Jonathan’s penthouse in a chilling silence. Dim lights reflected the silhouette of Harley, sitting quietly in a wicker chair by the window. His hand gently caressed his growing belly. His breath was heavy, his eyes weary, but there was a warmth radiating from his gaze—a mixture of anxiety and hope too fragile to express."I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered softly, almost inaudibly. "Because you have to be born into a world like this..."Jonathan stood behind him, leaning against the wall as he watched Harley’s back. His eyes were dim. He knew that the child clearly belonged to Edgar, his rival, a product of the brief night Harley had spent with him. Yet everything was already done. And he chose to lie. He chose to keep Harley, to shield him from the outside world, including from the biological father of the child."I will stay here," Jonathan said softly. "No matter what, you won’t be alone."Harley remained silent. That was
On a morning that should have been peaceful, Harley's world was once again shaken. The name "Dr. James" resurfaced in the headlines of digital media, but this time not as a lifesaver or accomplished young graduate, but as "James the fugitive Omega prostitute usually sold in elite nightclubs." Clara worked quickly. Footage from a blurry CCTV camera of an old club, snippets of fake documents, and paid testimonials began to surface—all pointing towards one narrative: James was not a victim, but a player. A fugitive. An Omega prostitute idolized by wealthy Alphas. Jonathan stared at the screen in his penthouse office, his jaw clenched. His hands were balled into fists, holding back his anger. “I will sue all of these media,” he muttered softly. “And Clara… she's gone too far.” However, Harley, standing in the corner of the room, remained silent. His body trembled slightly, his eyes vacant. The news stabbed him like a knife slowly embedded in his chest. Not just from the shame displ
The morning sky looked gray from the window of the Vallenstein family's private hospital. The scent of disinfectant mingled with the silence of the hallway—a reminder that life could depend on a single heartbeat.Mr. Lee lay weakly in a VIP room equipped with the most advanced medical tools. An oxygen tube was attached to his nose, and the heart monitor beeped slowly yet steadily. Mrs. Lee sat beside him, never leaving her husband's side since the shooting incident.Jonathan stood in the doorway, dressed in a semi-formal navy suit. His face was tired, but his eyes were sharp, observing Harley who stood next to the bed. The young man hadn’t strayed far from Harley since that incident.“Your father is strong,” Jonathan said quietly, placing a hand on Harley's shoulder from behind. “But the doctors say... the trauma has triggered his old heart disease. We have to be prepared for the worst.”Harley didn't respond. He just gazed at Mr. Lee, who was asleep, his heart aching as if it had bee