But Benny refused to let his thoughts sink any deeper. He did not want to look doubtful. He did not want to look curious. More than anything, he did not want to look defeated.So, like he always did, Benny chose the easiest path—Denial.“That is enough, Thom. Stop it,” he said in a dismissive tone as they walked toward the entrance. “You are overdoing it.”He glanced at Thom from the corner of his eye. “Remember, you came here to help with Frank’s matter, not to be treated like this. Not to be respected as if you were someone important.”Without waiting for a reaction, Benny stepped inside the police station building first. His steps were quick, as if he wanted to end all the scenes that made him uncomfortable.Thom did not respond. He simply followed behind at a calm pace, his expression unchanged.They passed through long corridors until they finally arrived at the interrogation room.As soon as the door opened, the atmosphere inside the room immediately felt heavy. Several members

Those words could only be heard by Frank.No one else in the room knew what Thom had actually said in that low and cold voice. Yet the effect was clearly visible on Frank’s face. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his cheeks stiffened. He held back the anger boiling inside him, suppressing the urge to shout or strike back.In his heart, Frank admitted something he had never wanted to accept. He had lost. Not legally, not because of the handcuffs on his wrists, but because of an invisible pressure. Because of the calm certainty in Thom’s eyes. Because of the way Thom stood, as if the world itself could never truly touch him.But Frank said nothing. He did not argue. He did not curse. He did not threaten in return. He simply stared straight ahead with an empty expression, as if all the emotions inside him had been forced into a tightly locked box.Benny stepped forward with a rough stride. “Frank!” he shouted loudly. “What did that bastard illegitimate son say to you?”He pointed at Thom

Elsewhere, far from the noise of the police station, a completely different atmosphere filled a dim underground room. A yellowish hanging lamp dangled low, casting faint shadows on the damp concrete walls. The scent of expensive wine mixed with cigarette smoke filled the air.A man sat casually on a black leather sofa. He wore a fedora hat that partially covered his face. His white shirt was left open at the chest, revealing a large tattoo that stretched up to his neck. He was around fifty years old, yet his body was still solid, his shoulders broad, his aura harsh and dangerous.Two young women sat closely on his lap, laughing softly as they poured wine into crystal glasses.The man raised his glass and took a slow sip, as if the world around him had never truly been able to disturb him.The iron door in the corner of the room opened. Another man entered with cautious steps. He stopped a few meters from the sofa, then bowed his head respectfully.“Sir,” he said quietly.The man in t

Thom did not wait any longer. He lifted Jasmine’s large suitcase with one hand, carried it to the trunk, and placed it neatly inside. After that, he turned around, opened the front passenger door, and looked at Jasmine, who was still standing frozen in place. “Please get in,” he said flatly. Then, with a slightly firmer tone, he added, “What are you waiting for? Why are you daydreaming for so long?” The sound of his voice startled Jasmine. She snapped out of her deep reverie, from memories she had tried so hard to bury over the past five years. Five years since she went abroad, right after Thom married Rachel. Five years of forcing herself to believe that distance, time, and constant busyness would be enough to extinguish those feelings. Yet now, seeing Thom standing in front of her, picking her up with the same cold expression she remembered so well, all the defenses she had built collapsed instantly. Her emotions became tangled. Her chest felt tight, not from exhaustion, but fro

Romi stared at Frank with a deep gaze, as if he was judging more than just the request that had just been spoken. He leaned slightly against the billiard table, his fingers tapping the cue in a slow rhythm that made the pressure in the room feel heavier. “How do you want me to kill him?” Romi asked, his voice flat but full of meaning. “Do you want him to die slowly, or quickly? An accident, a sudden illness, or should he simply disappear?” Frank clenched his jaw. He looked tired, angry, and far too obsessed with one final outcome. “That is up to you, Uncle,” he answered without hesitation. “What matters is that he dies. I do not want to see his face again. I do not want to hear his name again.” Romi nodded several times, a thin smile forming at the corner of his lips. It was a smile with no warmth at all. “Do not worry, my nephew,” he said softly, almost in a comforting tone. “As a good uncle, of course I will grant your request.” Those words seemed to be enough for Frank. Ther