Chapter 5

Mr. Jenkins and the housekeepers all found Liam to be very well-behaved. He was quiet every day; apart from eating and greeting the household staff, he would obediently stay in his room and study.

I became his emergency contact. His teacher called me once. Her tone on the phone was cheerful. "Liam took first place in the competition! There's an awards ceremony on Monday, please be sure to attend." She was quite certain I would go; after all, any parent would be proud to hear their child achieved such results.

No one around me ever mentioned Liam's name. So, the hand I was using to sign documents paused for a moment before I realized. "Oh, no, I won't." Then, ignoring her surprised reaction on the other end, I hung up directly.

The second time she called, I assumed it was another awards ceremony. So, I let it ring. After the phone persistently rang three times, I finally frowned and answered. "Don't call me about his affairs anymore."

The teacher paused, then said, "Liam got into a fight with a classmate at school. He's a bit injured. Could you please come to the school?" Her tone had lost the politeness of the first call.

I frowned and hung up, kneading my temples in annoyance. Brendan came in with documents. "Mr. Blackwood, everyone's here, waiting for you in the conference room."

I thought for a moment, then stood up. "Cancel it. I have something to take care of."

Liam, with his quiet demeanor, the kind of kid who would just wipe away tears with his head down even if you slapped him, actually got into a fight.

When I arrived at the school, several people were already standing in the office. The other kid had bruises on his face and was being comforted by his mom, who was bending over, asking if he was okay. The other kid’s dad, full of bluster, declared, "It's definitely not my kid's fault! He has to pay for damages and apologize to my son today!"

The teacher tried to mediate, saying, "We're not sure about the cause yet. Let's wait for his guardian to arrive before discussing compensation."

The other kid's parents looked at Liam, their tone unfriendly. "Where's your guardian?! Why aren't they here yet?" Liam stood in the corner, amidst the crowd of protected and doted-on classmates, like a forgotten speck of dust.

Through the crack in the door, I saw his figure and suddenly felt how quickly a half-grown kid matures. He seemed to have grown a lot, though I hadn't noticed.

"He won't come," I heard Liam's voice, very calm, utterly devoid of emotion. He showed neither the usual subservience he displayed in front of me nor a hint of vitality. He simply stated the fact, objectively: the fact that he was unvalued, unloved.

The other dad's voice grew louder: "Is that how you act as a parent? Your kid hit my son, and this isn't over until it's cleared up!" "Don't stand there being shameless! You think hitting my son without paying or apologizing will just blow over?!"

The teacher tried to mediate: "Please calm down, sir. I've already called. Let's just wait." He puffed, glaring at Liam, who simply stood there, his hand unconsciously tugging at the side of his pants.

"How much longer do we have to wait?!"

The teacher also looked troubled, as she'd called me before, and I'd directly said I wouldn't come. This time, she wasn't sure if I would show up, only saying, "I'm not sure. His guardian has never shown up when notified to come to school before." The other kid's dad scoffed. "No wonder. No one to teach him manners, that's what happens."

I finally couldn't listen anymore. Frowning, I pushed the door open. The other kid's parents immediately looked over. Their eyes assessed my height – a head taller than him – and my broader build, then landed on my suit and wristwatch. Their bluster noticeably deflated.

Liam looked at me, his eyes brightening, a little shocked, but he quickly lowered his head and respectfully called out, "Uncle Julian."

I walked in and saw that Liam's face was also bruised and discolored. Even worse than the other kid's. I frowned, a surge of inexplicable anger flaring within me. Beat up and still treated like dirt? How pathetic.

I scoffed, stepping in front of him, ignoring the complex look in Liam's eyes. "It's just compensation, right?"

"How much?"

The other parents didn't expect me to cut straight to the point. They exchanged a look, unsure what figure to name.

"Is ten thousand enough?"

"Well, this…"

Seeing their hesitation, I pressed, "Not enough, huh? How about a hundred thousand?"

I'd been in too many negotiations. From their micro-expressions alone, I could tell they were quite surprised and satisfied. I curved my lips, took out a check, and smoothly wrote down a string of numbers. As I wrote, I tilted my head and said to Liam, "It's just a hundred thousand. Is that worth being lectured like a nobody?"

"Hit them if you want. I can afford to pay any amount." I capped the pen and handed the check to them. I knew I had a naturally intimidating presence, and after years in business, I had developed a predatory ruthlessness. When I stared directly at people, their reactions were always similar to this couple's: fear, unease, they didn't even reach out for the check in my hand.

I smiled. "Go on, take it. There'll be more later. Make sure your kid takes care of himself. It won't do to be so fragile." I saw a bead of cold sweat trickle down the other dad's temple. The teacher also hadn't anticipated such a turn of events. "Please calm down, sir. We're here to solve a problem."

"Yes, children fight, so conflicts must be resolved, right? Who are you threatening?" The child's mother shielded her son behind her.

Liam looked at my face, lips pressed together, saying nothing, his beautiful eyes sparkling.

"Ah, so you want to resolve the conflict? Why didn't you say so earlier?" "My kid was also badly beaten. You two kept demanding apologies and money from us. I thought it was all my kid's fault." Hearing that term, Liam's brow twitched, and he looked at me, but said nothing. To be honest, I didn't want to call him that, and I never truly considered him "my kid." But some things just came out naturally in that context.

More than disliking Liam, I disliked being humiliated. In human relationships, if you retreat an inch, they'll advance a foot. But if you're aggressive and refuse to concede, they'll become well-behaved and honest. Neither of them would reveal the true reason for the fight, and since both had similar injuries, it ended in a muddled, hasty conclusion.

Coming out of the office, I strode ahead, with Liam trailing behind me obediently. After walking in silence for a while, he finally called out to me. "Uncle Julian."

I turned slightly to look at him, at his somewhat naive expression. It seemed that today, I had truly become his guardian, a reliance willing to shelter and stand up for him. He pursed his lips and softly said, "He told me to copy off his test."

"I refused, and he called me a fatherless and motherless bastard."

"So we fought."

He was so young, so tender. Perhaps he himself hadn't even realized that the vulnerable plea for comfort in his eyes had already saturated the surrounding air. I walked over and, for the first time, gently touched his head, a soothing, gentle gesture. His eyes widened. His amber pupils revealed clear dependence.

"Are you very wronged?"

He paused, then nodded almost imperceptibly.

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. As his expression grew confused, I said to him, "But what he said, what was wrong with it?"

"You are a fatherless, motherless, unloved bastard, aren't you?"

I watched, wide-eyed, as his body stiffened, as if pricked by a vicious needle. A mist gathered in his eyes. It had been years since I'd seen him cry. That evening, years ago, when I took him from the funeral home, felt like a lifetime ago. I reveled in my cruel revenge, yet a tiny voice within me issued a faint protest.

I withdrew my hand, standing before him with my hands in my pockets. On that beautiful, nascently handsome face, tears streamed down, flowing endlessly towards his neck. Something shattered completely at that moment, something that could never be pieced back together.

His voice, trembling, weeping, filled with uncontrollable brokenness. "Can you please, not do this to me?"

I stared at him, the curve of my lips slowly flattening. A thought flashed through my mind: Liam, how pitiful.