Zale slowly opened his eyes. He sat up groggily, his body protesting with a deep soreness. He massaged his shoulder and neck, trying to ease the discomfort.
Then he froze. The memory came crashing back—his car being crushed between a truck and a wall.
Shouldn't he be in a hospital?
He could remember it clearly: the twisted wreckage, his leg bent at an unnatural angle, shards of metal embedded in his stomach.
Wait… how is he still alive?
Then, without warning, many unfamiliar memories poured into his mind. Zale groaned in pain, shaking his head as if to force them out.
After a few breaths, the pain subsided, but he felt dizzy and disoriented, his forehead damp with fine beads of sweat. He lay down on the bed, sorting through the foreign memories.
The memories belonged to another man—also named Zale.
The first half of his life had been like a typical second-generation rich kid: drinking, partying, and sleeping around without restraint.
During one such party, he met a beautiful waitress and began dating her. Although his parents strongly disapproved of the relationship, they eventually gave in under their only son's rebellious insistence.
His parents' attitude toward their daughter-in-law remained indifferent, but with the birth of their grandson, all their reservations about her faded. The child's arrival filled the house with warmth again.
Everything remained peaceful for a few years—until one day, his father's business partner absconded with the company's entire working capital.
Not only that, that person had also signed multiple fake supplier contracts, leaving the company on the brink of collapse.
Under the pressure of overwhelming debt, his father threw himself off a building. His mother, unable to bear the shock, fell into deep depression and died in her sleep after consuming a large number of sleeping pills.
During his most difficult time, his wife also chose to leave him, emptying what little remained and vanishing from their lives entirely.
And just like that, Zale was left with millions in debt—and a two-year-old son.
Son? Where is the child?
Not bothering to process the rest of the memories, Zale quickly bolted upright from the bed. While he was putting on his slippers, an almost inaudible whimper came from the corner of the room.
Zale turned his head. A small, dirty bundle was curled up in the corner. A tiny hand clutched its stomach while big, dark eyes stared at him in fear—like a frightened puppy.
Then a flashback of this morning surfaced in his mind—how he had scolded the little boy for asking for food. Zale wanted to curse the original owner. How could a grown man take out his incompetence on a small child?
Thankfully, it had only been three days since the divorce. Everything could be salvaged.
But then, more memories followed. The couple arguing and fighting after their lives fell apart—while the little boy could only cry, helplessly trying to squeeze himself between them to stop the conflict.
A small voice echoed in his mind:
"No… don't fight… Mom… Dad… no fight… baby is scared…"
Zale closed his eyes, trying hard to shake off the memories. He couldn't imagine how confused and terrified the little child must have been.
Suppressing the anger, Zale forced the gentlest expression as he could manage. He crouched down slowly, and held out a hand, his voice as soft as cotton.
"Baby, come to Dad. Are you hungry? Dad will take you to eat something, okay?"
The little body flinched and shrank deeper into the corner. His fingers tightened over his empty stomach. Wanting to go, but at the same time afraid to, looking at Zale with hesitation and unease.
The sight made his chest sting. Zale waited patiently, hand still outstretched, a gentle smile on his lips as he tried to gain his son's trust.
Like a wary kitten, the child wobbled toward him on unsteady legs. The moment he curled up into his father's warm embrace, tears spilled down his face. His little mouth pouted, trembling with hurt.
"Daddy…"
"Yes, baby. Daddy is sorry for scolding you this morning. Can you forgive me?"
The child remained silent for a moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
"Daddy… hungry…"
"Okay. Daddy will get you something to eat."
Zale gently carried the boy out into the small living room.
Bottles littered the floor, and unwashed clothes were piled over every chair and table. He couldn't even find a clean place to set the boy down.
Helpless, he carried the baby into the kitchen, placed him on the counter, and rolled up his sleeves to start cooking.
Reality hit the moment he opened the fridge. There was nothing in it except a moldy piece of bread. Only then Zale remembered that the father and son had been surviving on food delivery since his ex-wife left.
Cursing the original owner's irresponsibility, he turned to his son, guilt flashing in his eyes. There was nothing else he could do. He looked at his son and said apologetically,
"Baby, Daddy will take you out to eat, okay?"
The boy nodded obediently without making a fuss—far too quiet for a child his age.
Zale carried his son to the bathroom and washed him carefully. After digging a clean set of clothes out of the messy closet, he dressed the boy, scooped him up, and left the house.
At a small restaurant, Zale ordered himself the cheapest breakfast on the menu. For his son, however, he ordered a glass of warm milk, a bowl of porridge, and soft scrambled eggs.
It wasn't that Zale wanted to treat himself poorly—his wallet simply couldn't afford otherwise. After paying for the meal, he would only have a little over a thousand left, and most of that would have to go toward buying proper groceries for his son.
Still, watching the boy's satisfied expression, Zale smiled with a sense of contentment.
Honestly, Zale had never imagined he would one day become this responsible—let alone this patient with a child. In his previous life, he had spent his days fighting his father and his illegitimate brother for control of the family estate. Even at thirty, he had remained single, with his entire focus fixed on power, profit, and survival.
For now, the first thing he needed to do was find a way to repay the debts hanging over his head. Given enough time, Zale was confident he could clear them within a year.
Raised and trained as the sole heir to a multibillion-dollar empire, his knowledge, instincts, and business acumen were far beyond that of the average person. The only problem was time.
Zale tapped his fingers lightly against the table, lost in thought. A small tug on his trousers pulled him back to reality.
Zale lowered his gaze.
His son stood beside him, barely reaching his thigh, one tiny hand clutching his trouser leg. His round eyes were damp with unshed tears, his lips pulled into a pitiful pout as he looked up at him.
Zale scooped his son up and settled him on his lap.
"Sorry, baby. Daddy was thinking about something."
Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the boy's forehead.
"Are you full?"
"Mmm..."
The little boy nodded immediately, then patted his round little stomach with both hands as if to prove just how full he was. This gesture was so earnest and adorable that Zale let out a quiet laugh.
Cute.
After breakfast, Zale took his son to a nearby grocery store. By the time they got home, one hand was full of grocery bags while the other held his son securely against his chest.
When they got home, Zale set the grocery bags aside and carried his son straight into the bedroom. The first thing he did was strip the bed.
He pulled off the old quilt and tossed it onto the floor. Next came the sheets, wrinkled and sour with the smell of alcohol. Stripped them off and replaced them with clean ones from the closet. After that, he pulled off the stained pillowcases and put on fresh ones.
Fresh sheets. Fresh pillowcases. A clean quilt.
Finally satisfied, he scooped up his son, who had been silently trailing behind him, and placed him on the bed.
"Baby, Daddy is going to work now. Stay here and behave, okay?"
"I'll be good, Daddy."
"Yes, you are. Good boy."
Zale pressed a light kiss to his cheek before turning back to the messy room.
Following two hours of gruelling work, Zale straightened and stretched, easing the ache in his back.
Slipping into a quick shower, Zale stepped out feeling marginally human again. His son was already asleep, curled into a small bundle in the middle of the bed.
The sight melted his heart. Once he changed into a clean clothes, Zale climbed into bed carefully, gathered the child into his arms, and closed his eyes.