The night was still, the vast sky above the Howlett estate filled with twinkling stars. A gentle breeze rustled the trees, casting flickering shadows across the grand manor.
Inside, James sat up in his bed, his keen senses alert even before he heard the soft knock at his door.
"Not yet, Mother," he responded, his voice steady.
The door opened slowly, revealing Elizabeth Howlett, a woman of striking beauty. Her golden hair framed her delicate features, and her deep-set eyes held an emotion that wavered between relief and sadness. She stepped forward, her silk gown whispering against the polished wooden floor as she moved toward her son.
"You've been studying for so long," she murmured, sitting beside him. She pulled him into an embrace, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. "Your body has only just recovered. I told you not to overexert yourself!"
James returned her hug, his small hands gripping hers reassuringly.
"I'm fine, Mother," he assured her. "It's been over a month, and I've fully recovered. Look at me—I'm stronger than ever!"
Elizabeth held his hand tighter, her fingers trembling slightly.
"That's good... that's good..." she whispered.
Despite his young age, James understood the emotions behind her words. He had seen the way her eyes darkened with unspoken grief, the way she clung to him with the desperation of someone afraid of loss.
His older brother, Tony, had died in her arms, a tragedy that shattered her completely. The memory of his fevered cries, of his still body, had left her on the verge of madness. When James, too, fell ill as a child, it had sent her into hysteria. The fear of losing another son had consumed her, and Mr. Howlett had been forced to keep her under house arrest for weeks until she regained control of her mind.
She was burdened with guilt—for her lost son, for the times she had been absent from James's bedside. But there were other burdens as well...
---
A Rival in the Shadows
While the manor rested under the night sky, another presence loomed within its walls—Victor Logan.
Victor was a peculiar boy. Despite being a servant's son, he carried himself with the arrogance of nobility. Tall and strong for his age, his features were rougher, his fingernails thick and sharp like claws. He did not behave like a commoner, nor did he speak like one.
Pride radiated from him, an unyielding defiance that refused to bow to anyone—except for Mr. Howlett. In the presence of the estate's true master, Victor played the role of the obedient servant. But with others, including James's father, John Howlett, his tone remained blunt, almost disrespectful.
It was no secret that John despised him. But was it just because of Victor's father, Thomas Logan? Or was there something more?
---
The Secrets of the Manor
The night air had cooled, carrying the crisp scent of pine from the vast Rocky Mountains beyond. James stepped onto the balcony, stretching his limbs in slow, practiced motions.
Martial arts had always been his sanctuary, a way to sharpen both body and mind. The vast wilderness that surrounded the estate gave him a sense of freedom, a connection to something primal. The stars above, the whispering wind, the towering peaks—they were all silent witnesses to his quiet training.
His movements were fluid, precise. He had spent a month rebuilding his strength, practicing ancient forms that focused on breath control, balance, and endurance.
As he moved through his exercises, his sharp ears picked up something unusual—muffled voices from the garden below.
His instincts flared. Quietly, he crouched low, pressing himself against the railing to listen.
A man's voice, rough and angry, cut through the night.
"Elizabeth! Listen to me, damn it!"
A woman's sharp reply followed.
"Thomas, you're hurting me!"
James's muscles tensed. His mother's voice.
He moved swiftly, climbing onto the rooftop, his steps light as a predator stalking its prey. From his new vantage point, he saw them—Thomas Logan, the estate's head gardener, and Elizabeth Howlett, locked in a heated confrontation beneath the moonlight.
Thomas was a rugged man, his frame large and imposing. He held Elizabeth's wrist tightly, his grip unwavering despite her struggles.
"Tell me the truth!" Thomas demanded, his voice low and urgent. "Is James my son?"
A chill ran through James's veins.
Elizabeth's expression twisted in anger and shame.
"James is John's son! How dare you, a mere servant, question his bloodline?"
Thomas didn't release her. His voice grew darker, more desperate.
"No… no, I don't believe it. James doesn't look like John. He doesn't act like him. He looks like you! And the day he was born… it was the same as when we—"
"Shut up, Thomas!" Elizabeth hissed, her voice laced with fury. "That was a mistake! A moment of weakness! It meant nothing!"
Thomas' grip finally loosened, his expression filled with something unreadable—pain, rage, or both.
"You can pretend all you want, Elizabeth," he said, voice thick with emotion. "But I know the truth. And one day… so will he."
He turned and stalked away, disappearing into the shadows of the estate.
Elizabeth stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, her hands shaking. Then, she too slipped away, her silk gown vanishing into the darkness.
Above them, James remained frozen in place, his heart pounding.
A truth he had never considered now loomed before him—a revelation that could shake the very foundations of his existence.
Was Thomas Logan… his real father?
---
The Sins of the Past
As he climbed back down to his room, James felt something shift inside him.
His mother's affair. The bitter rivalry between John and Thomas. The way Victor carried himself with arrogance, as if he was entitled to something greater.
It all made sense now.
This wasn't just a love triangle—it was a power struggle. A secret woven into the very fabric of the Howlett family, hidden beneath the estate's pristine facade.
And if it ever came to light… it wouldn't just mean disgrace.
It would mean death.
Lying back in his bed, James stared at the ceiling, his mind racing.
He wasn't concerned about being a so-called "bastard." He didn't care about bloodlines.
What he cared about was survival.
If Mr. Howlett ever discovered this secret, he wouldn't hesitate to eliminate both Elizabeth and Thomas—and James himself might not be spared.
He needed to be careful. To be smart.
Because from this night forward, his life would never be the same.