Chapter 10: The Past
James turned down Amelia's invitation again and left her place.
He didn't go home. Instead, he drove to the company and took the elevator straight to the thirty-second floor.
The employees working overtime just greeted him respectfully when they saw him, not surprised by his appearance at all.
Since James took over the Smith Group four years ago, showing up at the company outside work hours had become completely normal.
When it comes to the Smith Family, people still love talking about it even now.
Though the Smith Family was the top family in Imperial City, they had very few male heirs. By this generation, there were only two.
One was Uri, the first son of James's father Victor.
The other was James. He was the only boy among Victor's many illegitimate children, and he'd been raised outside the family since birth.
It wasn't until he turned five that Victor's wife was found unable to have more children. Since she couldn't continue giving the Smith Family heirs, she reluctantly agreed to let Victor bring James back to the Smith Villa.
With Uri around, James had no right to inherit the Smith Family.
But five years ago, Victor suddenly fell seriously ill, and Uri naturally took over the Smith Group.
However, less than three months after taking over, Uri suddenly had an accident.
A car crash put him in the hospital with severe injuries.
Though his life was saved, he could only survive on machines, completely losing his qualification to inherit the Smith Family.
The Smith Family fell into a huge crisis, and that's when James took over the Smith Group.
James had always been an insignificant presence in the Smith Family, so none of the relatives eyeing the family fortune took him seriously.
But unexpectedly, in less than three months, he not only secured his position as president of the Smith Group but also decisively cleaned out all the corrupt elements in the company.
His ruthless efficiency made it seem like he'd been planning it for years.
Rumors started flying everywhere.
People spread stories that Victor's illness and Uri's accident were both James's doing to seize power—
......
James entered his office. Instead of turning on his computer to work, he took out a pack of cigarettes from his drawer and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
He opened the pack, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.
After finishing one, he lit a second.
One after another, soon the previously clean ashtray beside him held over ten fresh cigarette butts, but his emotions still hadn't calmed down.
Thinking of Amelia, who had disturbed his peace of mind, James felt a burning sensation in his throat.
This girl who had warmed him during the hardest time of his childhood. After all these years, she could still easily affect his emotions.
From the first day he entered the Smith Family, he'd lived an inhuman life.
Victor, who brought him back, didn't know about any of this—or rather, didn't care.
Victor had many women outside. He rarely came home.
At the Smith Villa, Victor's wife Valencia ruled everything.
Though Valencia never laid a hand on him herself, she might as well have written her disgust for him on her face.
In the entire Smith Family, from Uri down to the lowest cleaning servants, everyone could bully and abuse him at will.
Going hungry or getting fed irregularly was normal.
His small body always mysteriously gained new injuries.
Falls, burns, bumps, beatings.
Not fatal, but old wounds constantly layered with new ones. The injuries on his body kept increasing and never healed.
Once again, a servant "accidentally" burned his arm, and no one helped treat it. The wound got infected and hurt terribly. The inflammation caused a high fever. He felt awful. When the servants weren't paying attention, he ran away from the Smith Villa.
Using the memory of what he'd seen through the car window on the way there, he kept walking and walking. He didn't know how long he walked until he finally saw familiar buildings.
He knocked on the door. The moment he saw his mother, his eyes turned red, and he rushed toward her with a face full of grievance.
But he fell into empty air. His mother didn't give him the chance. She grabbed his arm—right on the infected spot—and dragged him inside.
His mother's expression told him she was very angry right now.
When his mother was angry, he didn't dare cry out in pain. The more he cried, the more she'd make it hurt.
He could only endure. He clearly remembered the bone-deep pain when she grabbed his infected wound.
As his mother dragged him, he shook from the pain. She dragged him in front of the man he called father, and her voice became sharp and harsh: "Kneel down and apologize to your father."
Apologize?
What was he apologizing for?
"James!"
His mother's voice suddenly became extremely sharp, piercing his ears.
This was a sign she was losing control.
When his mother lost control, she wouldn't hold back at all when dealing with him. He couldn't take it.
He reflexively knelt down and obediently apologized: "Dad, I was wrong."
"Victor, James already knows he was wrong. Please don't be angry with him anymore!"
He didn't remember what Victor said then.
He only remembered his mother reluctantly seeing him off at the door as if he were a god, watching him get in the car.
She waited until the man's car drove away and disappeared from sight before turning back.
She walked to his side, crouched down halfway, took out a handkerchief, and gently wiped the cold sweat constantly pouring from his forehead.
With a loving expression, she said to him: "James, you're my hope. Only if you please your father will I have a chance to enter the Smith Villa and be with your dad."
"So James, you must be good at the Smith Villa. Listen to your dad and Valencia. Don't make them angry."
"I won't be mad at you for running off today, but don't do it again. If there's a next time, I will punish you."
"The driver's waiting outside. Hurry back."
His mother pulled him up.
She held his hand.
His mother's hand was warm, but he couldn't feel any warmth from it.
She pushed him toward the door.
He walked very, very slowly. He didn't want to go back to that place that was like hell to him.
The moment his mother pushed him into the car, he turned to look at her standing outside, trying to fight for himself.
He saw his mother speaking humbly to the driver who'd come to pick him up, apologizing for the trouble.
When she turned to him, she ignored the pleading in his eyes and closed the car door without hesitation.
With that closing, she also shut out his last bit of support.
From then on, he became like a severely wounded beast.
Even without the ability to defend himself, he absolutely refused to let people bully him.
Even though—the result of his resistance was heavier abuse and more injuries.
But he wasn't afraid.
In a flash, a year passed.
On his sixth birthday, he was blocked and humiliated again by some of Uri's followers.
For the first time, he beat those lackeys down.
His face covered in blood, he stared fiercely at the people who'd been bullying him, full of wariness.
That look scared them into running away.
It wasn't until they left that he collapsed to his knees, too hurt to stand up again. Half-conscious, he felt someone approaching.
He struck back instinctively, using his last bit of strength to grab the person's hand. Opening his eyes, he looked at them fiercely, trying to scare them away.
"Let go, it hurts." Amelia, standing in front of him and bending slightly, looked at him with tears in her eyes.
He met her gaze. Seeing she didn't look like she meant to hurt him, he let go.
She pulled her hand back, sniffled, and said with a wronged expression: "I just saw blood all over your face and wanted to help wipe it off."
After speaking, she carefully reached out again.
He instinctively shrank back, but having no strength left, he didn't move.
The fragrant handkerchief touched his face.
She didn't seem very skilled at it either, just roughly wiping across his face, touching the wounds on his face and at the corner of his mouth.
He didn't cry out in pain, but she immediately pulled her hand back. The blood-stained handkerchief fell to the ground.
She looked at his split lip and the wounds on his face with red-rimmed eyes, her voice tearful: "Does it hurt a lot?"
In that moment, he suddenly froze.
He stared blankly at Amelia.
So there was actually someone in this world who cared whether he was in pain?
He wanted to say it didn't hurt.
He'd long grown used to pain.
This little bit of pain was nothing compared to before.
But looking at Amelia, he ultimately didn't say it.
The door to his heart, which had been tightly closed because of his mother, quietly opened a crack.
From then on, the beast others said was impossible to approach had his weakness.
......
Mia's video call interrupted his memories. He turned and walked over.
He reached out to pick it up and saw it was a video call.
His eyes were unfathomably dark. His finger paused on the screen for a few seconds before pressing accept.