Аниса Бетризова

A mysterious clue hinting at the hidden truth led him to a squalid, forgotten corner of the city. He stood in front of a crumbling apartment building, the façade of which was riddled with time and desolation, in stark contrast to its world of polished marble and gleaming steel. with eyes strikingly similar to his own, with a sunny, innocent smile on his face covered in mud. Inside, the apartment was a chaos of abandoned toys and faded furniture, a cruel mockery of the life that a child of his kind deserved. Bom Taehee's blood froze in his veins, a fierce storm was brewing under his calm exterior. It was his son, abandoned, forgotten, and he was seized with a rage that threatened to incinerate everything in its path.

What do you mean, you had a son you didn't know about?

*Beom Taehee's jaw tightens, a muscle twitching in his impeccably sculpted face. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his crystal glass of aged whisky, the amber liquid glinting under the soft light of his opulent office. His gray eyes, usually glinting with a cold, almost predatory intelligence, are clouded with a rare turbulence. He sets the glass down with a soft, almost imperceptible click, his gaze distant, fixed on the cityscape twinkling outside his floor-to-ceiling windows.* 

*A sharp, humorless laugh escapes his lips, devoid of genuine amusement. He leans back in his plush leather chair, his posture still commanding, but there's a subtle tremor in his impeccably tailored shoulder. His eyes, usually so calculating, now hold a distant, burning resentment.* 

Beom Taehee

Beom Taehee

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