Mr. Adam arrived at the place in less than twenty minutes. The other black cars sped through the night. By the time his car stopped, police lights were still flashing, their sirens fading as officers secured the area.
Mr. Adam stepped out before the driver could open the door for him.
The night air was cold, but he didn't seem to feel it.
"Sir," Secretary Kim said quickly as he followed behind. "The attackers escaped.
CCTV is being retrieved. The police are cooperating."
Mr. Adam gave a single nod, his gaze already scanning the surroundings. Broken glass littered the ground. A few overturned tables from the party entrance lay scattered nearby.
His chest tightened.
"Where is he?" Mr. Adam asked, his voice low, and controlled.
Secretary Kim pointed. "Over there."
Williams stood under a streetlight, his jacket half off, blood staining his sleeve. One officer was speaking to him while another wrapped his arm.
He looked irritated and tense. Mr. Adam walked toward him. Every step felt heavier than the last. Williams looked up, and froze.
For a split second, the arrogance drained from his face. He hadn't expected this.
"Dad..." he started.
Mr. Adam raised a hand and the word died in Williams' throat. Mr. Adam stopped in front of him, his eyes moving slowly over the injury on his arm.
Then, without warning, Mr. Adam reached out and grabbed Williams by the collar, pulling him close.
The officers stiffened, startled.
"Do you know," Mr. Adam said quietly, his voice shaking just enough to betray the fear beneath it, "what it felt like hearing your voice on that phone, at that hour?"
Williams swallowed hard. Mr. Adam released him abruptly and stepped back, regaining control.
"I warned you," he continued, colder now. "I warned you about nights like this. About enemies you don't see. And yet you still walk around like the world owes you protection."
Williams clenched his jaw. "I handled it."
Mr. Adam's eyes darkened. "You almost didn't."
He turned to the police officer. "My people will cooperate fully. Increase patrols in this area. I want every camera reviewed."
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Adam looked back at his son one last time.
"Get in the car," he said. "We're going home."
For once, Williams didn't argue. As they drove away, the silence inside the car was heavy. Heavy enough to hear Williams' heart pounding heavily. And neither of them spoke to each other.
As they got home, Mr Adam walked straight into his room slamming the door on Williams' face. Williams stood there alone for a long moment, staring at his father's closed door. Slowly, he turned and walked to his own room. He sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders heavy, his chest tight. His father's silence had hurt him far more than any harsh words ever could.
He felt… alone, and abandoned. He had always felt this loneliness since the day his mother died in a car accident. Although his father had taken care of him as a child, he was almost always busy with the company.
When Williams was little, his father would take him to the office and give him many toys to keep him occupied while he worked.
Williams would sit on the floor, lining them up, naming them, talking to them as if they were real people, because they were the only company he had.
His father would work for hours without checking on him. Sometimes, he even forgot him at school.
He could still remember a day, when one of his company's new products was launched, his father and Secretary Kim became completely carried away with work. It was past seven in the evening before his father suddenly realized and rushed to the school.
When he arrived, Williams was sitting quietly in the principal's office.
The moment he saw his father, he ran to him and wrapped his arms around him crying. They both cried, holding each other tightly.
After that day, his father hired personal nannies for him.
As Williams grew older, he was sent to a boarding school. That was where he met friends who taught him how to laugh, how to have fun and how not to feel so empty.
"Do you want me to still be lonely?" he murmured to himself, rubbing his hands together.
Then his eyes drifted to the picture on his desk. It was his mother. She was wearing a pink designer dress and was looking as beautiful as a star. She always was. Her beauty was one of the reasons Mr Adam fell for her at first sight.
He picked up the photo and wiped it gently with his sleeve. Staring at the picture, memories of the past rushed back.
That day that had changed everything. The very day that took a part of him away.
That evening, he had insisted that his mother come to pick him up from school. On their way home, a truck appeared out of nowhere. It crashed into their car with a terrible sound of metal and glass.
He remembered the shock, the spinning, and how his mother threw her body over him, shielding him with her own, her arms wrapped tightly around him. The truck driver didn't even stop to help. He had fled the scene.
Though Williams survived. But his mother did not. He still remembered the hospital, the cold bed where she lay, her hand growing still in his.
Tears streamed down his face. He lay back on the bed and placed the picture on his chest, clutching it tightly.
"Mom… I miss you," he sobbed.
Curled up on the bed, holding the picture close, he finally drifted into sleep.
Few hours later, his eyes fluttered open.
The room was still dark, the curtains barely letting in the pale blue of early morning. His head felt heavy. His chest burned with each breath, and a strange weakness clung to his body, as if the mattress itself were pulling him down.
He tried to sit up, he couldn't stand up.
His fingers twitched, but his arms refused to obey. Even his voice felt trapped inside his chest.
"Dad…" he whispered. The word barely left his lips.
Then panic crept in his mind, he felt cold and suffocating. His throat was dry, his skin hot, yet he was shivering. He tried again, forcing his lips to move.
"Dad…" Still nothing. His eyes drifted to the door. If only I could reach it. If only I could move.
His breathing grew uneven. His heart thudded painfully, each beat echoing in his ears.
He felt the room tilt, his vision blurring.
I don't want to die, he thought, not like this.
Not without telling dad, I'm sorry. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes, soaking into the pillow.
Just then, the door creaked open.