The Newmans had spent their lives viewing Mikael not as a son, but as a high-yield asset. Their concern for his academic performance and social circle had always been a mechanism of control—a psychological tether used to ensure he remained an obedient extension of their brand. They didn't know, or care, that he was currently ranked in the top three of his department; to them, his value was purely transactional.
So, when Lance Luther offered a deal that required Mikael's presence in England to seal a billion-dollar partnership, there was no hesitation. There was no discussion of Mikael's dreams or his autonomy. To the Newmans, their son was a small price to pay for global expansion.
"If it's our son, then that's not a problem at all," Leonard replied, his smile wide and hungry. "We can finalize the decision whenever you are ready."
"If you want the papers signed today, we can make that possible," Sara added, her eyes already calculating the social capital she would gain from having a son representing Luther Corp in Europe.
Lance Luther leaned back in his leather chair, the light reflecting off his silver-rimmed glasses. "That won't be necessary. We have internal meetings scheduled for the rest of the day. You may return in three days to finalize the agreement and sign the formal transfer documents."
"Then it's settled," Leonard said, standing up and reaching across the massive oak desk. Lance returned the handshake with a grip that was cold, brief, and absolute.
"Oh, before I forget," Lance added, reaching for a thick, matte-black file. "These are the grant details for the student exchange. It contains the financial benefits and the details of the other party he will be traveling with."
Sara took the file, her manicured fingers grazing the heavy paper. As she opened it, she expected to see a list of boring corporate requirements. Instead, the first page detailed a life of extreme luxury: a private apartment in London, a full academic scholarship, and a monthly stipend of thirty thousand dollars. It was a king's ransom for a student.
But as she flipped to the second page, the air left her lungs. Her eyes widened in disbelief, as if someone had doused her with ice water. Beside Leonard, she stared at the profile of the second student selected for the mission.
There, written in bold, unforgiving black ink, was the name: Emily Jacob.
Later that evening, the atmosphere in the Newman apartment was deceptively peaceful. In his bedroom, Mikael lay on his bed, his face lit by the glow of his phone. He was scrolling through a series of photos Emily had just sent him—silly, awkward faces she had made while brushing her teeth. His smile was the widest it had been in months.
A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. It was the maid. "Master Mikael, your parents wish to see you in the dining room. Immediately."
Mikael's smile vanished. He knew the pattern. A nighttime summons meant one of two things: a lecture on his future or a cold interrogation about his personal life. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He had made up his mind—he was staying with Emily, and no amount of parental pressure was going to break them apart again.
"No one is taking her from me again," he whispered to the empty room.
When he arrived at the dining table, he was surprised. His parents weren't wearing their usual masks of anger or irritation. Instead, they looked triumphant.
"Sit, Mikael," Leonard said, adjusting his glasses. "We have made a decision that will not only change your life for the better but will enable Newman Industry to grow into a global powerhouse. And you, as it turns out, are the key."
Mikael sat, his expression wary. He didn't say a word. The fact that they had already "made the decision" without him was proof enough that his opinion held zero value at this table. He waited for the blow to fall.
"A major partner has requested you specifically to act as their representative," Sara said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "You would be representing the company's interests, working alongside their elite team." She took a breath. "In another continent."
"Wait, what?" Mikael scoffed, standing up so abruptly his chair scraped harshly against the floor. "What are you talking about?"
"What your mother is saying," Leonard added, "is that you are going to finish your studies in London as the official representative of Luther Corp."
"No! No way!" Mikael shouted, slamming his hands onto the table. "I just got Emily back! After everything we went through, you want to ship me across the ocean to split us up again? I won't let you! I'm not going!"
"Who said anything about separating you?" Sara asked, a chillingly calm smile touching her lips. "If anything, we are giving you exactly what you've always wanted."
Mikael paused, the anger in his chest replaced by a confusing, hollow dread. He sat back down slowly. "What do you mean by that?"
Sara didn't answer with words. She slid the black file across the table toward him. "You aren't going alone, Mikael."
He snatched the file and began flipping through it. The talk of grants and scholarships didn't move him—he was already wealthy. But when he reached the final page, his heart nearly stopped. There was the tag. There was the photo. Emily.
Luther Corp hadn't just picked him. They had picked her too.
Later that night, Mikael sat on the edge of his bed, the file lying open beside him. On the surface, it was perfect—a dream life in London with the girl he loved. But a cold, logical part of his mind was screaming. Why would a company that had just transferred Emily to his college less than a month ago suddenly want to ship her to another country?
The timing was too perfect. It felt like a surgical extraction.
A notification pinged on his phone. It was Emily.
Emily: Hey Mikael, something just came up, and I don't know what to do.
He realized she didn't know yet. The company must have notified her of her own transfer but not mentioned his. He sent a quick reply.
Mikael: What is it, bae? What's bothering you?
Emily: I'm being moved. They're sending me away, Mikael, and I can't stop it. I don't want to lose you again. I'm scared.
Mikael felt a surge of protective relief. He could fix this.
Mikael: Don't worry, sunshine. You won't lose me. Because we are going together.
There was a long, agonizing silence. The three dots danced on the screen for what felt like an eternity.
Emily: How did you know that? Are your parents behind this?
Mikael: No. I think it's Luther Corp. I don't know what their endgame is, but I've been signed to go with you. I'm not bothered by the 'why' as long as we're together. I'll play along.
Emily: Whatever it is, I hope we don't get separated... but something is off. We're supposed to leave in less than a week. The last time they moved me, I had a month to prepare. They want us out of the country as soon as possible.
Mikael froze. He hadn't noticed the departure date. Less than a week. It wasn't a transfer; it was an evacuation.
Mikael: Do you have anything in mind? Any idea why they're rushing?
Emily: No. But even if we find out, we can't stop it. Luther Corp owns the air we breathe at this point.
Before Mikael could respond, another message appeared.
Emily: I've been thinking... if we only have a week, you need to go see Ken. You might never get another chance to apologize. You can't leave things like this, Mikael. You owe him the truth.
Mikael's fingers hovered over the keys. The guilt he had been suppressing surged back, thick and suffocating. He remembered Ken's face in the rain, the sound of his heart breaking. He had been a coward, hiding behind the excuse of "giving him space."
Mikael: You're right. I should. I owe him that at least.
Emily: Good. I'm going to bed now. See you tomorrow, bae. Goodnight.
Mikael: Goodnight, sunshine.
He stared at the black screen of his phone. He had six days left in the country. Six days to find the courage to face the person he had destroyed.
The next morning, Ken woke up and stretched, a sense of genuine freedom rushing over him. For the first time in months, there was no "boy problem" looming over his head. No Mikael to baby, no Lucien to fear. He felt light—ready to focus on his art and his mother.
He got ready for school, humming a quiet tune. He grabbed his bag and his phone, but as he reached for the doorknob, he heard a sharp, insistent knock.
Oh, my neighbor is early, he thought, remembering his promise to help her find a plumber for her sink. The leak must have gotten worse.
He pulled the door open with a helpful smile on his face. "Hey, did the sink—"
The words died in his throat.
Standing in the hallway, looking pale, exhausted, and visibly trembling, wasn't his elderly neighbor. It was Mikael.
The two stared at each other in a silence so heavy it felt like the walls were closing in. Mikael looked like he hadn't slept in days, his wealthy, polished exterior cracked by a profound sense of panic.
"Ken," Mikael whispered, his voice cracking. "I... I need to talk to you."