The hotel room was silent except for the soft hum of the city outside. The moonlight crept through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. The bed, neatly made with white silk sheets, looked untouched, yet there was an undeniable tension in the air, thick enough to make the air feel heavy.
The boy stood by the door, eyes gleaming with mischief. His hand casually rested in the pocket of his black leather jacket, and his lips were curved into a small, dangerous smile. He looked like a lion waiting to pounce, his body relaxed but every muscle in his frame coiled with energy.
The man—Daddy—was at the window, his back turned, his posture rigid. He was staring out into the city, his mind clearly elsewhere, but the boy knew better than to think Daddy was free from the storm that was coming.
The boy didn't care that the man was ignoring him. He didn't care that Daddy was pretending to be calm. What mattered was that tonight, he had a plan, and the man had no idea what was coming.
"You know why we're here, don't you?" the boy asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.
The man didn't turn around. He kept his gaze fixed on the city lights, his jaw tight. "What do you want this time?" His voice was calm, controlled, but there was a slight edge to it—a tension that told the boy everything he needed to know.
The boy's smile deepened. "What makes you think I want something?"
"Because you always do," the man replied without turning around. "And this game of yours? It's getting old."
The boy stepped closer, his boots clicking softly against the floor. "Maybe I just like watching you squirm, Daddy," he said, the words dripping with something dark and playful. "Maybe I like it when you can't hide what you're really feeling."
The man's fists clenched at his sides. He still didn't turn around.
"Fine," the boy continued, his voice lowering. "I'll show you."
He walked to the small table by the window, his hand brushing across the smooth surface. The boy had been planning this night for weeks, and now everything was falling into place. He had brought Daddy here, to this private hotel room, and he had set everything up. But what he hadn't told Daddy yet was that tonight, someone from his past was going to walk through that door.
The boy chuckled softly to himself. He had been waiting for this moment—waiting for the past to finally collide with the present.
Before the man could react, there was a knock at the door.
Daddy's body stiffened, and for the first time that night, he seemed truly alert. The boy turned to look at him, his eyes glittering. "It's him," the boy said, almost like he was talking to himself. "The one you've been hiding from."
"Don't," Daddy said, his voice suddenly urgent. "Don't open the door."
The boy ignored him, walking over to the door with a slow, deliberate pace. He didn't look at Daddy. He didn't need to. He already knew the man was watching him, his eyes filled with something between fear and anger. But the boy didn't care. This was his game now.
He opened the door, and there stood the man—the one who had been haunting Daddy's past for years. He was tall, with a broad frame that filled the doorway. His dark hair was messy, and his piercing eyes locked onto Daddy without a second glance.
"Long time, no see," the man said, his voice smooth, almost mocking.
Daddy's face drained of color. "What are you doing here?" His voice was a little shaky, but he tried to cover it up with a forced calmness.
The man smirked, stepping into the room with confidence. "You didn't think I would find you, did you?" He closed the door behind him, his gaze still locked on Daddy. "I've been looking for you for a long time."
The boy watched them both, his heart pounding with excitement. This was what he had been waiting for. This was the moment that would break Daddy. The man from Daddy's past was here, and the boy was ready to watch everything fall apart.
"You—" Daddy started, but he didn't finish. He was too shaken to speak.
"You thought you could just walk away," the man continued, his eyes never leaving Daddy. "You thought you could leave all of this behind. But you were wrong." He took a step forward, his presence overwhelming.
The boy could see the panic flicker in Daddy's eyes, but he didn't let it show for long. He was strong, or at least he wanted to appear that way. The boy didn't care about the past. He didn't care about any of the old wounds or secrets. He was here for one thing, and one thing only: power.
"Who's this?" the man finally asked, his eyes moving to the boy, who had been standing silently at the side.
"This is my boy," Daddy said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's nothing to you."
The man laughed, a low, menacing sound. "Nothing, huh? You've been hiding things from me, Robert. I know who he is. And I know you, too." He took another step forward, and the boy could feel the tension rise in the room.
"What do you want?" Daddy asked, his voice barely holding steady.
The man's eyes darkened, and he leaned in close. "You know what I want, Robert. You've known for a long time." He let the words hang in the air, heavy with meaning.
The boy watched Daddy, his heart racing. There was something in the way the man looked at Robert, something that told the boy this wasn't just a reunion—it was something more. There was a history here that went deeper than he could ever have imagined.
"You thought you could just forget about me," the man said softly. "But I never forget."
The boy smiled, stepping forward. "I guess nobody forgets, huh?"
Daddy's face twisted with a mix of anger and desperation. "You don't know what you're doing," he said, his voice tight.
But the boy wasn't listening anymore. His eyes were on the stranger, on the man who had somehow slipped back into Daddy's life without warning. "Oh, but I do," the boy said. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
And with that, he closed the space between them, standing toe to toe with the stranger. The man's gaze flickered down to the boy, his eyes flashing with something dangerous.
"Who are you?" the stranger asked, his tone colder now.
The boy smiled, his lips curling into something dark. "You're not the only one who knows about Daddy's secrets."
For the first time, the stranger hesitated. His eyes flicked to Daddy, then back to the boy. "What are you talking about?"
The boy tilted his head, his voice a soft whisper. "You've been gone too long to understand, haven't you? Things have changed."
Daddy took a step forward, his voice shaking. "Stop it. This ends now."
But the boy wasn't done. "Oh, Daddy," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's already too late."
The tension in the room was unbearable. The stranger was watching Daddy, his expression unreadable. But the boy could see it now—the truth. The past was never really gone. It had just been waiting. Watching. And now, it had come back with a vengeance.
To be continue...
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