King descended the stairs barefoot, the soft hush of his footsteps swallowed by the thick silence that hung in the house. Morning light spilled through the sheer drapes, casting pale ribbons across the floor. Everything was spotless, like someone had tried to erase the loneliness with perfect order.
The living room was still and silent, but his eyes were drawn to the project file, always waiting for Win, even in his absence.
On the dining table sat a full breakfast, steaming eggs, toast arranged with military precision, and a mug of coffee still hot. A note, placed neatly beside a slim file, rested atop the placemat.
King unfolded it.
Everything you'll need will be delivered. Try to go to the office before noon. One of the Sky Holdings project leads will arrive to collect the project file. You'll need to present the project briefly. Than knows what to do when you arrive. Don't stay out too late. I'll be back soon.
—Win
King sighed.
Of course, Win had already planned everything down to the exact hour, the meals, the schedule, even the people King would be allowed to interact with.
It had always been like that.
King didn't know how to cook. Not because he lacked the interest, but because Win never let him need to. There had been a time, years ago, when a kind, middle-aged housemaid had lived with them. She liked King immediately, always offering him extra soup, chatting like he was her son. It was innocent, affectionate. But even that soft familiarity had drawn a wedge between King and Win.
Within a week, the maid was gone. Not fired. Not dismissed. Just reassigned. You'll see her when I call her. You don't need anyone else.
Since then, Win had taken over everything. Cooking. Sorting deliveries. Overseeing King's routine like he was something delicate, something sacred. He never said the words, but the message was always there.
Anyone who came too close would be removed.
Even now, the cleaning crew only came in the early mornings. The gardener was allowed to trim the hedges but never linger. No one stayed. No one entered the private part of the house. That space belonged to Win and King alone.
And Win made sure of it.
King picked up the file, the familiar weight of responsibility pressing into his palm.
He didn't smile. But there was something in his chest, a quiet knowing.
No matter how far Win went, he was never really gone.
Because wherever King stood... Win had already been there first.
He emerged from his room already dressed, tailored charcoal-grey suit hugging his lean frame, crisp white shirt beneath it, and a deep blue tie knotted precisely at his collar. He moved with quiet confidence, a man raised in luxury but shaped by restraint.
As soon as he stepped out of the car and into the lobby, the atmosphere subtly shifted. The front desk receptionist stood a little taller. Security guards gave quick nods. Even the groundskeepers outside had lit up when they spotted him earlier.
Inside, the employees smiled wider.
"Good afternoon, Mr. King."
"So good to see you again, sir."
King responded with gentle nods and a calm gaze that never lingered too long, yet long enough to make each person feel acknowledged.
He didn't carry the steel edge Win was known for. Win was frost, brilliant and sharp. But King was warm. Controlled, dignified, yet quiet enough to draw others in. He didn't command attention. He earned it without effort.
By the time he reached the boardroom, it was already prepped. Water, files, and even extra pens had been arranged. Than stood by the side table, nervously stacking folders, glancing at King like a starstruck assistant.
King sat, reviewing the Sky Holdings file for the third time. Win had done most of the prep, but King made sure every signature was aligned and every clause properly highlighted.
Than, still organizing beside him, couldn't hold in his curiosity.
"Sir…" he said, fidgeting. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you work from home so often? We'd love to have you around more."
King offered a soft smile and was just about to answer when a tiny knock interrupted them.
The assistant leaned in from the hallway. "Sir, Sky Holdings representative has arrived."
King stood smoothly, adjusting his sleeves. "Send them in."
Than mirrored him, standing upright beside his boss.
The door opened, and King froze.
James stepped inside, tall, poised, his suit sharp. That same quiet confidence and haunting familiarity trailed in with him.
Their eyes locked.
King's breath caught. Just briefly.
Him?
Than leaned toward him, whispering, "Do you know him?"
King nodded once, barely audible. "Yes."
James gave a respectful nod. "I'm here on behalf of my father."
Recovering fast, King straightened his posture. "Of course. Please, have a seat."
The meeting unfolded with polished civility. Files passed back and forth. Technical terms exchanged. Voices low, formal.
But tension hung in the air like smoke. Lingering. Watching.
Outside the glass-paneled room, two assistants passed, whispering.
Did you see the way he looked at Mr. King?
There's history there.
A third laughed. Thank God Mr. Win isn't in the building. The whole place would've gone up in flames.
Inside, the final document was signed. James stood, adjusting his jacket. "Let me drive you home?"
King offered a neutral smile, stepping back. "I already have a car waiting. I'll need to report back to Win anyway, just to confirm delivery."
James raised a brow. "Still reporting everything?"
King didn't answer.
James paused again, his voice softer now. "Can I ask something?"
King raised an eyebrow, curious.
James leaned closer. "Is Win your brother or your secret boyfriend?"
Laughter echoed faintly down the corridor from a passing staff member. They look good together. Like a royal couple.
Another nodded. Mr. King's always so graceful…
King kept his tone calm but cool. "Win's not blood. It's not an affair. He's just the closest person in my life."
James smiled knowingly. "But not soft with you, I bet."
King didn't respond. He simply turned to the assistant. "That'll be all."
James didn't move at first. He watched King walk to the door, his expression unreadable.
Then he followed.
"Would you consider dinner?" James asked suddenly, voice warm. "Maybe a movie? A drink? Whatever you feel like."
King paused at the hallway's end, glanced back, and smiled politely.
"I'll text you when I get home, Mr. Cheng."
And with that, he disappeared into the elevator.
James also left with his crew.
The plane touched down with a soft jolt against the tarmac, taxiing toward the private section of the international airport. From the window, Win stared out at the skyline, a foreign city he'd visited before but never lingered in. This time, it wasn't just about presence. It was about power, negotiation, and sealing a deal worth billions.
As soon as the jet rolled to a stop, a sleek black car was already waiting on the runway. Assistant Malik opened the door for him. "Sir, the WXA Tech leadership is waiting in the hotel suite. They've moved the timeline forward. It looks like you're already expected to make a preliminary presentation tonight."
Win nodded. "Then let's not waste time."
The ride to the hotel was short, but the mood in the car was focused. Malik updated him on the finer details. WXA Tech, a robotics and energy optimization firm expanding aggressively into sustainable architecture, had been eyeing FlyJen Holdings for months. Win was there to finalize an exclusive partnership that would grant them licensing rights to Win's proprietary design system.
A deal this size wasn't just business, it was legacy.
The hotel they brought him to was five-star, as expected. High-rise, discreet, with tinted glass and muted luxury. No fanfare. No press. The kind of place designed for men like Win, quiet giants with empires to command.
As the elevator climbed to the penthouse, Malik turned to him. "Do you want anything before I leave? Food? Massage therapist? Security sweep?"
Win gave a slight shake of the head. "Just make sure the presentation file is in place. And have the documents encrypted and delivered to my private inbox."
The moment the door to his suite opened, Win dropped his jacket over the chair, loosened his cuffs, and finally exhaled. The weight of travel, expectation, and business tension settled into his shoulders, but there was only one person on his mind.
He didn't even remove his shoes before pulling out his phone.
Win:
Just landed. Hotel's quiet. How did the ChengTech meeting go? Did the rep collect the files?
He waited.
Barely thirty seconds passed before the screen lit up.
King:
Yes. Everything went well. Than was there. We got it all signed and submitted.
Win smiled faintly. Efficient as always. But something was off.
Win:
Who did Sky Holdings send? I was expecting one of their senior execs.
There was a pause. Long enough that Win frowned slightly.
King:
It was someone from the family. I'll tell you later. Nothing important.
Win narrowed his eyes. King never dodged small details unless he thought they might provoke something.
But he didn't press.
Win:
You've eaten?
King:
I will. I'm tired. I will shower, eat, and sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.
Win:
Tired? I just flew halfway across the world and sat through a 90-minute pitch session, and you're the one tired?
He added a smirking emoji. It felt strange sending something playful but, with King, softness came easily.
Still, despite the teasing, his next message was gentle.
Win:
Go rest. Sleep well. We'll talk in the morning.
No reply for a few minutes.
Win stared at the screen, something tugging in his gut. He knew King. Knew his silences. His rhythms. The tone behind his short replies.
Something wasn't right.
He walked to the window, hands in his pockets, staring out at the distant skyline as he whispered to himself, "You're not sleeping."
He could feel it.
King was avoiding the call. Dodging conversation. He reached for his phone again, not to reply to Win, but to pull up the message from James, sent hours earlier.
James:
Pick you up at 9.
King checked the time.
8:57 p.m.
His heart kicked.
Not with guilt.
But adrenaline.
And Win, who knew him better than anyone, didn't believe the quiet for a second.
What King didn't know, or maybe what he was foolish enough to test, was that playing with fire never ends in warmth. It burns.
And Win?
He always, eventually, found the smoke.