«Twenty minutes ago»
Thalira was inside a restaurant, picking up food for herself and her father.
Not far away, a car was parked.
Inside, Daniel, who had been following her straight from school, kept his eyes fixed on the restaurant's glass wall, watching her through it.
His fingers tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, and on the passenger seat beside him sat a small, elegant bag with a neatly wrapped gift inside.
Thalira stepped out of the restaurant, her face bright with a smile, and made her way toward her father's shop nearby.
Daniel followed discreetly, keeping his distance.
He watched as she entered the shop.
Crossing to the next street, he peered inside—and what he saw made his blood boil. Without a second thought, he sprang into action, joining the fight.
---
Thalira continued biting, clinging tightly to his back, the silver stone pendant on her necklace glowing brightly.
Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of the figure dealing with the other guard.
Her hands froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened.
Daniel Harrison.
He sat astride the man, delivering blow after merciless blow with ruthless precision.
She was suddenly thrown from the man's back.
Taking advantage of the moment, he flung her aside, and she hit the floor with a loud thud, groaning as she clutched her aching shoulder.
The man, holding his bleeding ear, began staggering toward the shop's exit.
Determined, Thalira pushed herself onto her knees and crawled after him.
She grabbed his left leg, and he swung to kick her off, but she held on fiercely. He tried again, but her grip only grew tighter, refusing to let him escape.
"You'll pay for hitting my dad!" She whispered tearfully, her eyes blazing with intensity as she pinned him in place with surprising strength.
Daniel released the man he had been dealing with—already unconscious—and turned toward Thalira.
His expression hardened instantly.
He rushed over, grabbed the struggling man by the collar, and strike him with a powerful punch.
At the same time, Thalira yanked his leg, sending him crashing to the floor with a resounding thud.
"You both will spend the rest of your lives in prison. I'll make sure of it," Daniel said coldly, his body slick with sweat.
Breathing heavily, he immediately dialed the police.
Minutes later, the police officers handcuffed them and pushed them into the vehicles.
As the cars drove off, Daniel turned to Thalira, who was in tears, hugging her father tightly.
He stood there, hands in his pockets, one hand trembling slightly—the reason he kept it hidden.
This was the first time he had ever fought since he was born.
Surprisingly, he felt no regret.
Instead, a sense of relief washed over him, as if fulfilling his duty had finally brought him peace.
Thalira suddenly turned to him, and their eyes met.
Daniel looked away instinctively, but then he felt her press against him. Glancing down, his eyes widened—Thalira was hugging him tightly.
It was the first hug he had ever received.
His mother had died when he was born, and his father had always kept him isolated, never allowing him the chance to make friends.
The only companion he had known was Kyla, who often visited or spent holidays with his family. But he had never let her hug him—he had always seen her only as a playmate.
But this time, someone neither close to his social circle nor his family was given the chance he had never offered to anyone.
Thalira Romans had hugged him—and, surprisingly, he wasn't angry.
Instead, it felt… almost as if it were his duty.
"Thank you so much. I really appreciate your kindness… we're grateful, Dan," she muttered, hugging him even tighter, her cheek pressed against his chest and her eyes squeezed shut.
Her nose ran as she sniffled softly.
Daniel swallowed hard, debating whether to hug her back. His fists clenched tightly inside his pockets, betraying the turmoil inside him.
"Thank you, son. You must be the handsome young man she's always talking about—the one who loves mathematics," Fredrick said, limping toward them.
Thalira's eyes widened.
She immediately broke the hug and stepped back, turning to her father. He opened his mouth to speak again, but she pressed her palm over it, whispering a desperate plea.
Daniel looked away, and slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Meanwhile, outside, a flashy car was parked across the street. A high school boy sat behind the steering wheel, one hand resting on it as his fingers tapped lightly.
A guitar case lay on the back seat behind him.
His eyes remained fixed on the shop ahead, his expression unreadable.
"So that's her father's shop?" he muttered quietly, glancing down at his wristwatch before shifting his gaze back to the building.
Just then, his phone rang. He pulled it out, checking the screen to see who was calling. It was his mother.
With a soft sigh, he answered the call.
"Where are you, Carlos? The family is waiting. You know better than to make your father angry. Get yourself here in two minutes. Don't you dare waste it."
His mother ended the call without waiting for a response.
Carlos lowered the phone slowly before tossing it onto the back seat. His hands tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned pale.
He glanced once more at the shop across the street, his expression hardening.
Brushing a hand through his hair, he drew in a steady breath and started the engine.
With his jaw clenched and frustration burning in his chest, he drove away.
Carlos Rodriguez is the leader of the C40 band and its main vocalist. The band consists of four members in total.
He is a student in Class B and consistently ranks second in his term results.
Brilliant and disciplined, Carlos has built a strong reputation within the school.
Beyond campus, he is also gaining recognition in the outside world, steadily rising in popularity for his talent and stage presence.
Despite his popularity and talent, Carlos is far from carefree. Behind the applause and flashing stage lights lies a quiet burden he carries alone.
At home, expectations weigh heavily on his shoulders. Every performance must be flawless.
Every note had to be perfect. One small mistake, and he would suffer. His father, Matthew Rodriguez, would punish him with a belt for the slightest slip or even a tiny crack in his voice.
The pain on his skin was real, and it was anything but funny.
And today, they were planning to betroth him to someone else. Carlos's grip tightened as he sped the car to its highest gear.
---
*
*
*
«CHRIS–HOSPITAL»
Thalira was inside her father's ward with him.
His left leg was bandaged from a fractured ankle, and patches covered his face and neck. He was eating quietly as she watched over him.
Meanwhile, outside, Daniel stepped out of the doctor's office and exchanged a handshake with the doctor before he returned inside.
Daniel began heading back to Thalira's father's ward, but suddenly someone came running and collided with him, knocking him off balance.
He pushed her away, stepped back, and brushed the dust from his clothes.
Slowly, his eyes met hers—and both of them widened. It was Kyla Adams. She wore a short denim skirt with waist beads, a cropped top, and glasses perched on her forehead, one hand resting on her hip.
"What are you doing here?" they both chorused, scoffing. Kyla brushed back her hair and stepped forward slightly, unfazed.
"You look perfectly fine. You're not injured anywhere, so tell me—who did you come to visit?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Her attention was suddenly drawn to Thalira, who was rushing out of the elevator toward the reception.
Daniel's eyes followed her, and he let out a weary sigh. Kyla glanced at him, and when she saw his expression, her eyes widened in shock.
"Wait… she's the one?" Kyla asked in disbelief. Her gaze shifted back to Thalira, who had just thanked the receptionist and was now running out of the hospital, her hair flying behind her.
Kyla let out a soft chuckle, folding her arms as she stared at Daniel, incredulous.
"How can I be sure you're not the one who paid her father's hospital bill… or maybe even their rent?" Kyla asked, her voice burning with jealousy and resentment toward Thalira.
"And what if I told you she's my fiancée? Would you still stand there questioning me, Kyla Adams?" Daniel asked, his voice colder than ice, his eyes blazing with a glare that sent shivers down her spine.
He stepped closer, leaning in, his gaze locking firmly with hers.
"Stay out of my business. You are nothing more than a childhood playmate to me—nothing else, Kyla. It's high time you learned your place. You can never have my heart. Kill whatever feelings you have for me, because it already belongs to someone else—and you know exactly who that person is. Or should I spell it out for you?" Daniel said coldly.
Kyla swallowed hard.
Daniel smirked, then turned and walked away, deliberately bumping his shoulder into hers.
She staggered back, her eyes widening as she turned to stare at his retreating figure, frozen in shock.
Her breathing grew heavy as she watched him step into the elevator.
Pulling out her phone, she quickly dialed a number and hurried out of the building, tears streaming down her face.
"You have a job to do for me," she said harshly. "I'll send you her picture. Make sure you crush her bones—make sure she spent the rest of her life in wheelchair!."
Her voice broke into a furious sob as she ended the call and ran off.
Minutes later, Thailra hurried into the hospital, a nylon bag of food clutched in her hand. Smiling softly, she stepped into the elevator, which carried her up to the third floor.
She entered her father's ward and found Daniel there, chatting animatedly with him.
The sight brought a gentle smile to her face, as both of them were wearing warm, genuine smiles.
"Here," she said, holding out the bag to Daniel with a smile. Fredrick shook his head in disbelief, returning to his own meal.
Daniel took the bag from her, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before sitting on the other side of the bed.
She opened her own food and began eating.
Daniel watched her for a moment, and when their eyes met, she gave him an encouraging nod.
He returned a small smile, opened his meal, noting how well it was prepared, spared her a final glance, and then picked up his spoon to begin eating.
It was the first time he had ever eaten local food, and it tasted far better than anything he had at home.
There was something undeniably comforting about the simplicity and authenticity of it.
"I brought some water too… careful, it's spicy," Thalira said, opening the bottle and offering it to him.
He stared at her for a moment, and she urged him to take it. He accepted the bottle, bringing it to his lips and taking a long sip.
Thalira smiled, returning to her own meal.
She sipped her water slowly, letting it sit in her mouth for a moment so her cheeks puffed out on both sides before swallowing and continuing to eat.
Daniel's smile deepened, watching her with a quiet warmth.
Fredrick continued to observe them, with a smile tugging from his lips.
He just hoped the happiness lasts.
____
*
*
«RODRIGUEZ—ESTATE»
Carlos entered the house, his backpack slung over his left shoulder and his guitar case strapped to his back.
Before he could react, a resounding slap from his father struck his cheek, causing his backpack to swing and nearly knock his hand to the floor.
His lips split, and his face turned aside from the blow.
"School dismisses at exactly 4 p.m., yet look at the time you're returning home—past six! Do you think you'll be welcomed with open arms? You clearly know we have an important visitor today, and still you have the audacity to be late. How dare you, Carlos!" Mr. Rodriguez bellowed, raising his hand to strike again.
But his wife stepped in, holding his arm and stopping him.
Carlos remained silent, swallowing the lump in his throat. He had no choice but to endure—for now. But inside, a quiet fire was beginning to burn.
He shifted his gaze back to his father and let out a dark, silent chuckle.
Running his palm through his hair, he brushed it back and sniffed, as if nothing had happened, while adjusting the guitar case on his back.
His mood shifted from normal to dark, and the whole room felt it—an expression they had never seen before.
Yet Mr. Rodriguez didn't flinch.
Carlos silently picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. His eyes shifted from normal to piercing as they locked onto his father.
Chills ran down his mother's spine as she swallowed hard, wondering what had come over him.
"I'm here now, Father. Let's proceed with the engagement. Where is my wife-to-be? I have a special gift for her. Where are my in-laws?" Carlos raised his eyebrows, a savage, dark smirk spreading across his face as he pointed toward the guest room upstairs.
"Perhaps they're already waiting for me. I'm here now—keeping them waiting would be a taboo in my life. Don't you agree, Mother?"
He shifted his gaze to his mother.
She swallowed hard, her heart gripped by fear.
The air around him felt heavier, darker, more suffocating than any emotion she had experienced in years.
She remembered the day she gave birth to him—the terror, the pain, nearly losing her life to the blood that wouldn't stop.
And now, standing before her, he was a shadow of that power, that intensity, amplified.
If he carried this energy into that room, something unforgettable would happen—he was no longer fully in control of his body.
This wasn't the first time she had felt such darkness around him, but the force he held now was stronger than anything in the past.
Whenever it took over, he would either destroy a car or cause accidents on the road. If he went into the guest room now, she was certain she wouldn't like what would happen.
She stared at her husband, who said nothing, frozen in fear.
Mr. Rodriguez slowly clenched his fists, knowing better than to provoke him.
The last time he had tried—trashing him with a belt—the darkness too over and turned the belt against him. He had spent a week in the hospital recovering.
Reason he held back—rather than shouting, yelling, or even slapping him if necessary—the most mysterious part is: once the dark energy left Carlos, he would never remember what had happened.
"Hello, handsome!" a voice shouted from upstairs.
The three of them turned their gazes upward to see Anastasia, Carlos's fiancée to-be, rushing down the stairs in a hot red dress and black heels, her hair swinging across her back with every step.
The couple's eyes widened as they glanced at Carlos, who stared back at her with a devilish smirk that made the air in the room feel even heavier.
"No… no, Anastasia! Don't!!" Mrs. Rodriguez shouted, shaking her head wildly in panic.
Mr. Rodriguez reacted instantly, throwing himself around Carlos and holding him tight, blocking him from reaching her.
Anastasia halted, raising a gloved hand, a fur scarf tied around her neck swaying as she froze.
"Go back to your father and tell him the engagement is postponed. Now!!" Mr. Rodriguez yelled.
Fear overtook her, and Anastasia immediately turned and ran upstairs, nearly stumbling on the stairs as she fled.
In a flash, Carlos twisted free, grabbing Mr. Rodriguez by the neck with merciless strength and flinging him out of the room.
The force of it made Mrs. Rodriguez scream—and then she fainted.
Carlos smirk darkened as he shifted his gaze upstairs.
*
*
*
«TWO DAYS LATER»
"Your rent has been overdue for three months, and while you've been busy paying your daughter's school fees—a small fortune—how can you be so heartless, Frederick?" Mr. Cedric, the landlord, shouted, glaring at him.
Frederick knelt on the floor, his ankle still bandaged.
"I promise I'll pay back the money. Please, be patient with me! I'm working as hard as I can to save it, I swear—please, Cedric," Frederick pleaded, reaching for his leg, only for Cedric to kick his hand away.
"Enough of your pleas! I've had it. Every time I ask for my rent, all I hear is 'please, please, please.' Even after giving you more than enough grace, you still end with the same excuses. I've had enough. Either you pay me my money, or you leave my house—right now!" Mr. Cedric's tone was final, leaving no room for argument.
Hot sweat dripped down Frederick's cheeks as he swallowed hard, fear and desperation written all over his face.
Heavy rain began pouring down at that very moment.
Cedric stepped inside the house gate and locked it, leaving Frederick kneeling outside as the rain beat down on him mercilessly.
How was he going to come up with the rent in twenty hours? And where would he go with his daughter now?
Busco had seized his shop, confiscating his tools and locking the place up.
Now, he was about to be thrown out of his house as well, all because he couldn't pay the rent.
He was on the brink of ending up on the streets—about to give his daughter the very life he had sworn she would never know.
If they became homeless, it would mean only one thing: she would be forced to drop out of school.
No.
He wouldn't allow that to happen.
Never.
He had to do something—and he had to do it fast.
*
*
*
«AFCON GAMBLING DEN»
Frederick limped inside.
The place was as noisy as ever, filled with men and women gambling and celebrating their wins.
The scent of cigarettes and alcohol hung thick in the air. The den was massive and lavishly decorated—every corner spoke of wealth.
Money had been poured into every detail, and everything about the place screamed opulence.
"Where do you think you're going?" a muscular man demanded in a hard tone, blocking his path.
His ears were pierced with multiple round earrings, and his nose and lips were adorned with studs.
Tattoos covered much of his body, giving him a fearsome appearance.
AFCON GAMBLING DEN — one of the most famous gambling centers in the entire USA.
"I'd like to meet Snooze, the boss," Frederick said.
The man smirked, eyeing him up and down before shoving him roughly. Frederick staggered, nearly falling, but managed to steady himself.
"Where's your invitation? Who do you think you are, randomly dropping his name like that without respect or permission?!" the man thundered, yanking him closer by the collar and raising his fist to strike.
"Let him," a deep voice commanded from upstairs.
The man immediately recognized the voice and shoved Frederick aside.
Frederick staggered, regaining his balance, and slowly lifted his gaze to see the person he had come to find—Snooze, the owner of the den.
His hair was dyed in multiple colors, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing dark tattoos that sprawled across his chest and arms. Multiple earrings adorned his ears, and he wore short denim trousers.
A cigarette dangled from his lips as he stared down at Frederick with a dangerous intensity.
*
*
"You want to borrow fifty million from me? And when exactly do you plan on paying it back?" Snooze asked, sitting with his legs crossed on a throne-like couch.
Frederick knelt before him, tense and wary. Behind the couch, two women massaged Snooze's shoulders.
At each corner of the room, cameras were mounted on the ceiling, and bodyguards stood at attention, their gazes cold and unyielding.
"Twelve months. I promise I'll pay it back," Frederick said.
Snooze's smirk darkened as he brought a cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag while keeping his eyes fixed on Frederick.
He slowly exhaled the smoke.
"Twelve months… afraid to just say a year?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Frederick swallowed hard. Snooze chuckled dryly, then gestured to one of the guards. The man approached, and Snooze leaned in to whisper in his ear.
The guard bowed before stepping away.
Frederick's eyes followed the guard as he left, then returned to Snooze with a deep swallow.
"You'll pay back the fifty million in twelve months, Frederick Romans? And what do you think I'll do if you fail to keep your promise?" Snooze asked, raising an eyebrow.
Frederick swallowed hard, clasping his hands tightly in response.
"You're free to do with me as you wish. I promise I'll pay it back—I swear on everything I hold dear," Frederick said.
Snooze's lips curved into a dark, merciless smirk that sent chills down his spine.
The bodyguard returned with the agreement file and placed it on the table, a pen resting on top. Frederick swallowed hard as he stared at it.
"Take the pen and sign the papers, and include your account details. You'll receive the transfer before you even reach home, Frederick Romans," Snooze muttered.
Frederick's lips curled into a small, relieved smile.
Without hesitation, he picked up the pen and signed the documents.
------------
༆𝑻𝑩𝑪༆
🔥🔥✨