The thugs exchanged looks—was the job done? Would they get the rest of the payment?
"Out!"
Lucas was an enraged lion.
The extras scattered.
The living room was trashed.
I lay on the floor, blood at the corner of my mouth, eyelids swollen like walnuts.
Lucas crouched beside me, hands trembling, reaching out to help me up but not daring to touch.
With effort, I pried one eye open and shakily grabbed the hem of his shirt.
"Son… are you okay?"
"Did that scare you? When you were little… you were always terrified of thugs…"
Total fabrication—his mom was dead anyway, and dead men tell no tales.
Lucas's throat bobbed hard.
Looking at my wrecked state, that cold heart of his—frozen solid for forty-seven years—finally cracked.
"Shut up."
His voice was hoarse, eyes reddening. "Someone call an ambulance."
Internally, I flashed a victory sign.
This beating? Worth every bruise.
At the hospital. VIP ward.
I was wrapped up like a mummy.
Lucas sat by the bed, peeling an apple.
He peeled with intense focus; the skin came off in one long, unbroken spiral.
Over the past few days, I'd gone full "loving father" mode.
Every waking moment, I fed him "stories from before."
How Mia had held my hand on her deathbed and made me promise to take care of this son of hers—forty-seven years old but still a baby at heart.
I told it so often I started believing it myself.
Lucas went from impatient at first, to silent, to quietly accepting.
He'd been conquered.
"Dad…"
The word was barely a whisper, like it had been dragged out from somewhere deep in his chest.
But I heard it.
I nearly rolled right off the bed. Tears burst out instantly.
"Hey! Hey! Good son!"
I grabbed his hand, tears streaming down my face. "Once your mom's first seven days are over, we'll live our lives properly, you and me."
Lucas turned his head away, ears tipped red.
"Austin Dickerson is here to read the will."
He changed the subject, but the hostility from before was gone.
Austin walked in wearing a black suit, briefcase in hand.
Behind him trailed a flock of Gilbert relatives—and that snake Madeline.
The way she looked at me was like she was sizing up a corpse.
My stomach dropped. Bad feeling.
Austin cleared his throat and pulled out a document.
"According to Ms. Mia Gilbert's will, all real estate and cash under her name, as well as 30% of Gilbert Group shares..."
Everyone held their breath.
"...will be inherited by her legal husband, Mr. Peter Harding."
Boom—