Two weeks after that incident, things had begun to improve.Thom used his military medical skills to suppress Shenina's memory nerves. It was not a complicated procedure. Just pressure on several specific points behind the ears and at the base of the neck, performed while Shenina was fast asleep. It was the same technique Thom once used on soldiers suffering from severe war trauma. The effect was not permanent, but it was enough to make Shenina forget her previous memories.The little girl no longer remembered Rachel. She did not remember her mother's smile. She did not remember her mother's embrace. She did not remember her mother's perfume. She did not remember her mother's voice during phone calls. The only things she remembered were what happened after she got sick: the hospital, the injections, the pain in her waist, and Jasmine's face always beside her.And Jasmine. She was now called "Mama.""I want Mama to stay with me," Shenina would say every time Jasmine tried to go to the

Hello, my family readers. Thank you for following the journey of Season 1 from beginning to end. We have completed one major chapters in the life of Thom Haye, a legendary king of war who chose early retirement from the military, only to return and face an even greater battle: the battle within his own family. My appreciation goes to all the readers, and especially to those who supported this book with gifts and became my top fans… To: Darlene Coad, Sylwyn, Visitor5138, Dahn Mose, Daniel Johnson, Jason Flint, and Lynn Casey. I pray that your lives will always be filled with happiness. E-hug to you all… Season 1 Reflection— Season 1 was filled with conflict. Conflict between husband and wife, between son-in-law and mother-in-law, between step-siblings, between a father and his daughter. I intentionally wrote it this way because I believe family drama is the truest battle every human being experiences. There is no battlefield crueler than the family dining table. There is

Thom stepped out through the front door of his house. His black shoes, which had been covered in travel dust earlier that morning, were now polished clean, gleaming as if they had just come out of the box. Not a single speck of dust remained. No scratches. Even the shoelaces had been adjusted perfectly, neither too loose nor too tight.Beside the door, Benny stood with his head slightly lowered. The body that had once been strong and arrogant now looked thinner, his face calmer, and his eyes, the eyes that had once looked at Thom with hatred, now held nothing but deep respect.“Boss’s shoes are ready,” Benny said softly, his voice no longer filled with the confidence it carried seven months ago.Thom looked at his shoes, then at Benny. “Good. Thank you.”Benny gave a small smile. A smile he had never shown anyone before.Seven months had passed since Madam Lena’s death. Seven months since Benny came to Thom’s house with a broken heart and unwavering determination. He did not apologize

Red Dragon stepped back. The two Delta Force members also stepped back. They were not ordered to. No signal was given. But they knew. This was not their fight. This was Thom’s fight. Their King of War wanted to show something. Not violence. But dominance that did not need to hurt.Red Dragon was uneasy. His eyes did not blink as he followed every movement of the three village men surrounding Thom. The long machetes glimmered in the cold air. One swing toward the head. One slash toward the stomach. One strike toward the neck. All moving together, as if they had practiced this attack thousands of times.But none of them touched Thom.Thom’s body moved like water. Flowing. Evading. No excessive movement. No dramatic jumps. Just a shift of the hips, an arch of the back, a small step to the side. Enough to make the machetes miss by mere millimeters.The first man swung his machete toward Thom’s left shoulder. Thom tilted his body, and the blade hissed past his ear.Znnkk!The second man sl

Knock! Knock!Thom knocked on the weathered wooden door.Twice. Slowly.Behind him, Red Dragon and the two Delta Force members stood at a safe distance. None of them held any weapons.Not long after, the door opened.A young man stood behind it. He looked around twenty, maybe twenty one. His face was thin, his skin darkened by the sun, and his long unkempt hair was tied carelessly with a rope made from wood fibers. His clothes were worn out. A long sleeved shirt that had thinned in several places, torn at the elbows, its color faded into a dirty gray. His cloth pants were ripped at the knees, the ends already frayed.In his right hand, he tightly gripped a long machete. The blade glimmered beneath the dim light slipping through the cracks in the wooden walls. Its tip pointed toward the ground, not aimed at anyone, but ready to be raised at any moment.His eyes were wary. Unfriendly.“Who are you people?” His voice was deep and slightly hoarse. His gaze moved quickly, judging Thom fro