Mr. Langford sat in his office, the heavy oak desk polished to perfection, the scent of aged whiskey lingering faintly in the air. The fire in the corner hearth burned low, throwing shadows against the high walls lined with books and portraits. He was a man of control, discipline, and composure. Nothing rattled him easily.
Until today.
One of his most trusted men stood before him, hesitant, shifting on his feet as though the very air in the room was suffocating him. His voice faltered, but he forced every word out:
The kidnapping.The chains.The bruises.The blood.The trauma Aira had endured.The fragile state she was found in.
Mr. Langford didn't move. Didn't blink. His gaze was fixed ahead, sharp and unreadable. The silence stretched so long, it became unbearable.
Then—crack.
The glass in his hand shattered under the force of his grip, shards slicing into his palm. Blood dripped onto the polished wood, but he didn't even flinch. His jaw tightened, and a storm ignited in his eyes.
His voice was low, guttural."My son… did this?"
He rose to his full height, towering, terrifying. In one swift command, he ordered:"Find Liam. Drag him to the private estate. Not home. Not where anyone can see. I will deal with him myself."
The guard bowed and hurried out, the echo of his footsteps vanishing down the hall.
Word reached Zane soon after. When he was told Mr. Langford knew the truth, his only response was simple, steady:"Good."
Because Zane knew—among all the powerful men who walked these halls—Mr. Langford was one of the very few who had ever treated Aira with dignity, with genuine respect.
Hours later, Liam was dragged in. His hair disheveled, his shirt torn, wrists bruised from the restraints. His eyes were wild, desperate, his mouth spilling the same delusions over and over:"She loves me… She was mine… He took her away from me…"
Mr. Langford stood at the head of the room, expression carved from stone.
Liam stumbled forward, looking up at his father, expecting perhaps protection. Understanding. Anything.
Instead—
The sound of a sharp slap cracked through the silence. Liam's head whipped to the side, cheek burning red.
Not out of anger.Not out of cruelty.But out of disgust.
Mr. Langford's voice thundered, shaking the very air:"You kidnapped her? You hurt her? That girl you once claimed to love—you left her bleeding in a basement like an animal?"
Liam shouted back, spittle flying. "It was Zane! He poisoned her against me! If it wasn't for him—"
"Enough!"
The roar stopped Liam cold. His father's hand slammed down on the desk, rattling the glasses, making the walls echo.
"You think anyone needed to turn her against you? You destroyed yourself the moment you raised your hand to her. You lost her, Liam. Not to Zane. Not to anyone. You lost her the moment you became a monster."
The words cut deeper than any blade.
Liam collapsed onto his knees, trembling, face twisted with denial, hatred, and madness. He muttered Aira's name like a prayer, like a curse, rocking back and forth as though clinging to something already gone.
Mr. Langford stepped closer, his shadow swallowing Liam whole. His voice was deadly calm now, each word carved in steel."You are not my son. Not anymore."
Later that night, under the silence of the estate, Mr. Langford sent a private message to Zane.
It was short. Unpolished. Written by a man who rarely bared his heart.
I failed to raise a man.You protect what he tried to destroy.I stand with you—whatever you decide to do next.
Afterward, he retreated into his private study. He closed the door behind him and poured himself another drink with trembling hands. Alone, he whispered Aira's name.
The memory of her laughter filled him—bright, soft, from years ago when she had once brought a fleeting warmth into his cold home. Now, knowing what his own blood had done to her, that warmth was gone, replaced by ash.
His voice broke as he muttered to himself:"I will never forgive him for this."
And in a locked room somewhere deep in the estate, Liam sat in the dark. His lips repeated Aira's name again and again, until it no longer sounded like love but like a curse.
This time, no one came to free him.This time, not even his father.