One of the men turned to Wyatt, giving the signal. “Sir, you may proceed.”

“Let go!” I demanded.

I kicked the bodyguard square in the groin, dodged to the side, and grabbed Wyatt’s arm. Raising my hand high, I snapped, “You’re just an assistant. Who gave you the nerve to act like this?”

“Stop right there!”

Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the parking lot.

I looked up and saw Darcy marching toward us, her face cold and tight.

“Darcy!” Wyatt broke free from my grip and, eyes red, rushed to her side. “He tried to hit me! Look at my face…”

Paint still streaked my own face as I turned to her, eyes indifferent.

“Y-You’re here to back him up, President Coldwell?” Wyatt asked, staring at her.

“I am,” she answered. To my shock, she shoved Wyatt aside.

“Darcy! He started it! He’s the one who messed with me!” Wyatt complained.

“Bryden,” Darcy called, looking at me. To my surprise, her eyes reddened.

“Bryden?” Wyatt froze mid-breath.

Darcy reached up and gently wiped the paint off my face, her gaze turning ice-cold as she turned to the team of security.

“Which one of you did this?” she asked through gritted teeth.

They exchanged uneasy glances, not daring to breathe. One of them instinctively looked toward Wyatt’s son.

“President Coldwell!” Wyatt quickly pulled the boy behind him. “He’s just a kid! He didn’t know any better—he was just playing around.”

“Oh, so he thought it was fun. And as his father, you thought it was fun too?” Darcy shot back.

“His father?” I cut in coldly. “What the hell is going on here?”

Darcy looked as if she were unaware of what had happened. She even started introducing the kid to me.

“Bryden, this is Wyatt’s son. His wife… There was an accident.”

“I—” Wyatt tried to speak, but Darcy cut him off.

“Have you completely lost your mind? Have you forgotten who helped you when you had nothing?” she snapped.

“But—” Wyatt tried to defend himself.

“Even if Bryden hadn’t come today,” Darcy pressed on, “are you saying this is how you usually go around throwing his name around to act all high and mighty?

Disappointment filled her eyes as she glared at him. “If he hadn’t called me just now, would you still be out here abusing his reputation?

She didn’t let him argue. “Weston’s still so young. Is this the kind of example you want to set for your son?!”

Wyatt’s eyes turned red again while Darcy’s gaze dropped to the little boy. Her first reaction was to roll up his sleeve and check the inside.

When she saw the initials stitched there, her perfectly shaped brows furrowed deeply.

“President Coldwell, I… I…” Wyatt scrambled to explain.

“Wyatt,” she cut in again, “I only let you stay on as my assistant after my husband went abroad because I pitied you.”

She sighed before she continued, “I even let you use his parking spot so you could conveniently bring your kid. And this is how you repay me? Repay him?”

Wyatt bit his lower lip hard, on the verge of tears.

‘So… Darcy really didn’t know?’ I wondered.

I was just about to ask when she spoke first.

“You’re done here. Wash your uniform and go to finance to collect your final paycheck.”

“What? President Coldwell, please—no!”

Panic spread across his face. He lunged forward to plead, but Darcy stepped in front of me protectively and signalled the security to stop him and his son from coming any closer.

“Bryden, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Her eyes were filled with worry, so gentle—just like the first time we met.

My eyes stung, and just like that, the anger inside me eased.

We had loved and known each other for fifteen years and had never once fought.

Even during the five years I was away, as long as I called—even if she was in the middle of a board meeting—she’d pause everything, just to give me one minute on a video call.

My clothes were still soaked in the paint Weston had thrown at me; Darcy brought me home to clean up.

But just as we exited the parking lot, a small homeless kid by the roadside caught my eye.

It had been five years, but that birthmark on his arm… That couldn’t be mistaken.

I pulled away from Darcy’s hand and stepped forward.

I lifted the homeless kid’s chin.

“Lindon?!”

‘My son… is begging on the street?!’

Lindon clearly didn’t recognize me. He flinched and instinctively backed away.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, sir! I’ll go beg somewhere else!”

Watching him scramble to pick up his chipped plate and worn plastic spoon in a panic, wearing those tattered clothes, my eyes immediately welled up.

This was my son—once a bold, fiery little prince who couldn’t be tamed by anyone. How had he become so timid and afraid?!

Suddenly, I remembered Weston wearing my son’s clothes. That bastard, not even five years old, was decked out in gold and jewels. A wave of dread surged through my chest.

I spun around and grabbed Darcy by the arm.

“What’s really going on between you and Wyatt?” I asked, demanding an explanation.

“Bryden?” She winced; my grip had clearly hurt her.

“Why is Wyatt’s son dressed like royalty while our son is out here begging on the street? Don’t tell me you’re just being kind to that father and son!”

Just as I was about to get physical again, my son suddenly threw himself at my leg and held on tightly.

“No! No, it’s not like that, Dad! I was just…” He shot a nervous glance at his mom. “I was just… experiencing life…”

“Experiencing life?” I repeated, stunned.

Darcy looked a bit wronged. “Honey, you know how stubborn our son is. If he’s going to inherit the company one day, we can’t let him grow up reckless.”

“After you left,” she continued, “I’ve been trying to temper his nature. Letting him beg was just one method of teaching him.”

“Teaching him by having him beg on the street?!” I snapped.

My son hurriedly pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Dad! Mom told me to observe people from a homeless perspective. Every month I go to a different area. This month is the rich street.”

He pointed to the paper. “I have to write a report for Mom after each assignment. Look—I’ve already written half of the one for the rich street.”

I stared at the report, stunned.

In my son’s childish handwriting were detailed observations of people’s behavior—patterns, preferences, even an analysis of their needs.

This was the same boy who used to be completely unmanageable, wild to the core, and couldn’t sit still long enough to learn anything. No one could keep him in line.

Darcy gave me a somewhat aggrieved look.

“Honey, you’re the one who told me, after you left, to take care of him and discipline him properly…” she reasoned. “I’ve tried so many methods. If I’m not strict, he won’t listen at all…”

I had said that.

And honestly, I had to admit, I was pleasantly surprised by the results. I’d never seen our son this well-behaved.

I helped him pack up his little setup.

“Let’s skip the begging part from now on,” I said. “We’ll come up with a new method tomorrow.”

After we got home, I drafted a brand-new development plan for him.

And just like that, he never begged on the streets again.

The vacation leave my superior approved was down to its final day. As I was packing up to return to work, I received a call from Lindon’s school.

“Hello, is this President Coldwell’s husband? Sorry to bother you, but could you please be more involved in your son’s life? You can’t just leave everything to his mother.”

I frowned. “My son’s been really well-behaved lately.”

“Sir, I understand that you might have a bias as a parent, but your son has injured five of his classmates just this week,” the teacher reported.

“Your wife has managed to smooth things over each time,” she added, “but you really can’t let this go on unchecked!”

I was fuming.

‘Could it be that what Darcy said was right? When dealing with a wild child like Lindon, do I really have to be a bit harsh?’

I dropped my luggage and rushed straight to the school.

Just as I reached the door of the administrative office, I heard shouting from inside.

Hold on… That voice…

I shoved the door open in a panic.

Inside, Weston was in the middle of an angry shouting match with a group of injured children. He was so worked up he nearly threw another punch. It took everything the teachers had to pull him back.

“Are you Lindon’s father? Please take care of your son!” the teacher shouted in exasperation.

I turned and looked at Weston. Then, my gaze shifted back to the teacher.

“You said he’s President Coldwell’s son?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Lindon.”

I let out a cold laugh.

“And how do you know he’s President Coldwell’s son?”

The teacher chuckled.

“President Coldwell is incredibly busy, but every time this child gets into trouble, she comes down personally to smooth things over. She’s already paid nearly a million in compensation. What kind of person would do that unless she’s the mother?”

My fist clenched involuntarily.

“And what about Weston?” I asked.

The teacher blinked in confusion.

“Sir, we don’t have any student named Weston in this school.”

My breath caught. I turned away and called Darcy.

“So, President Coldwell, you’ve gotten so ambitious you’re sending someone else’s son to school in place of ours?”

The teacher stared at me, baffled. On the other end of the line, Darcy was even more confused.

“What are you talking about, honey?”

“I had no idea Weston had become our son—using your name at school and getting into fights!”

“What did you just say?”

Her voice was laced with shock.

Back in her office, Darcy was furious.

“I only stepped in to help because you’re a single father, and I pitied your situation! But you went behind my back and switched the boys?!”

I stood just outside the office, listening to the argument inside, frowning slightly.

‘Could it be… that Darcy truly didn’t know?’ I contemplated.

We had been in love and understood each other for fifteen years. She had always stood by me.

Even when I was too busy with missions and missed our nightly video calls, I’d find her still waiting for me, asleep on the couch with the call screen open.

Inside, Wyatt was still trying to defend himself.

“I… I didn’t know what else to do! In a fancy school like that, if I showed up as a single dad, my son would be bullied, right? Besides, you were—”

“Enough!” Darcy cut him off coldly. “Leave New York City.”

“Hold on,” I said, pushing open the office door. “I’ll take him out myself.”

She looked over at me, and I turned to Wyatt.

“I’ll personally make sure he gets to Tarskova.”

Darcy paused while Wyatt started to panic and turned to her. “President Coldwell, please—”

“All right,” Darcy said with a nod.

“President Coldwell! I don’t want to go!” Wyatt shouted.

But my men were already waiting downstairs.

I hadn’t come just to confront them. I came to make sure I got to Wyatt first—before anyone else could interfere.

This wasn’t only about him posing repeated threats to my family.

I’d been covertly involved in assisting with a trade war overseas. The Coldwell Corporation was already a key player in the country’s economic development.

And something about Wyatt… wasn’t right.

My request to have him transferred had been approved. After hearing what I’d gone through, my superiors even granted me a three-day family trip to Bali with my wife and son.

I personally escorted Wyatt onto the plane.

My team would be waiting for him at the airport.

At the gate, eyes red, he dropped to his knees and clutched Weston tightly in his arms, begging me for mercy.

“Please… Please just give me one last chance…”

I looked down at him from above.

“There’s someone in Tarskova assigned to you. You won’t die—unless…” I paused intentionally, letting the words hang. “You really are an economic spy.”

Wyatt froze, speechless.

I turned around and headed off to join my family for our three-day trip.

Who knew when we’d be together again after this?

I had to make the most of every second.

Only after confirming that Wyatt and Weston had landed safely did I board the ship.

But the moment I stepped onboard, a mob of nearly thirty men swarmed me from all directions, pinned me down, and dragged me to the deck.

“What do you think you’re doing? I’m President Coldwell’s husband!”