Damien sat in a heavy, contemplative silence for a long time after Aiden's outburst. He didn't move, his gaze fixed on the sterile floor until the doctor entered to perform a final, thorough examination.
"How is he now?" Damien asked, his voice low and devoid of its usual sharp edge.
"He's responded remarkably well to the treatment," the doctor replied, checking the monitors. "He'll be ready for discharge by this evening. How are you feeling, young man?"
"I'm fine now," Aiden replied, managing a small, tired smile.
"No lingering headache or dizziness?" the doctor probed.
"Not at all," Aiden assured him.
"Good. Rest assured, you're safe now. We've flushed the sedative from your system," the doctor said with a reassuring nod. "Try to keep things quiet for a few days."
"Thank you, Doc," Aiden said gratefully.
Once the door clicked shut, Damien walked slowly to the side of the bed. He looked at Aiden—really looked at him—seeing the dark circles under his eyes and the slight tremble in his hands.
"I'm sorry I put you in danger," Damien said softly. He reached out, patting Aiden's head with a surprising gentleness. "And for the record... I never called you a 'toy boy.' I never did, and I never will."
Before the weight of the moment could settle, the door swung open. Charlie and Charles barged in, effectively shattering the quiet.
"Ahem! Hey buddy, how are you feeling? Still in one piece?" Charlie asked, rushing to the bedside. Aiden sat up, and Charles moved forward to adjust the pillows behind his back to make him more comfortable.
"I'm fine, really," Aiden replied, his voice calmer now.
"I'm so sorry, dear, that your trip to Tokyo ended like this," Charles remarked kindly, his eyes full of genuine concern.
"It's not your fault," Aiden smiled faintly.
"Yeah, it definitely wasn't our fault. It was his fault for neglecting his boy," Charlie added, jabbing a playful but pointed finger at Damien
"It's okay, really," Aiden reassured them. The tension in the room broke as the brothers chuckled softly.
"Okay, let's leave you to get some actual rest,"
Charles said, signaling to Damien that they should step into the hall to discuss the more serious matters.
Outside in the corridor, the atmosphere shifted instantly.
"What do you mean you couldn't catch him?" Damien asked sharply, turning on Sean.
"Yes, sir. We couldn't," Sean replied, looking down. "He was fast, and they had a secondary extraction team waiting. We were outnumbered at the service exit."
Damien sighed deeply, the sound heavy with frustration. "Hmm."
"Did you really think he would move that quickly without a plan?" Charles commented, leaning against the wall. "He knew we were coming. He prepared an escape route through a building he knew we didn't have access to."
"So, you mean there's a mole?" Damien's voice was like ice.
"Most likely. Someone gave him the floor number. Someone told him when our guards were rotating."
Damien's jaw tightened. "Find out who it is. Before things spiral any further."
Back at the Mansion
Twenty-four hours later, Aiden was officially discharged. He was driven back to the massive Smith estate where the family was staying—everyone except Charles, who had his own residence with his husband.
"Master Damien, welcome home," Mrs. Kate greeted them at the door with a respectful bow. "And Master Aiden, it is so good to see you safe."
The group settled in, and soon Mrs. Kate
announced that lunch was served. They moved to the grand dining area, the table laden with enough food to feed a small army.
While they ate, Charles looked over at Aiden. "So… did you happen to see the kidnapper's face? Even a glimpse?"
"No," Aiden replied, picking at his food. "My face was covered almost the entire time."
"Hmm," Charles muttered, clearly disappointed. "And you don't remember any specific names or places mentioned?"
Aiden recounted the entire ordeal—the garden, the blow to the head, and waking up tied to the bed. He left out the part about the tattoo; for some reason, he wanted to keep that to himself for now.
"So, he didn't say anything specific to you? No threats?" Damien pressed, his eyes searching Aiden's.
"Nothing," Aiden confirmed firmly.
Just then, the click of high heels echoed on the marble floor. Jessica walked in, looking as pristine and arrogant as ever.
"Hey, darling," she said, leaning down to kiss Damien's cheek. He dodged the gesture gracefully, leaning away to reach for his water. Undeterred, she turned to the others. "Hi, Charlie."
"Hey," he replied flatly, not looking up from his plate.
Jessica's eyes landed on Aiden, her expression cooling. "Can I join you for lunch?" she asked Damien.
"Help yourself," Charlie said before Damien could answer.
Jessica dropped her designer purse onto a side chair and moved toward Damien, subtly gesturing for Aiden to move his chair and make space for her next to the head of the table.
Aiden didn't wait to be told twice. He immediately stood up, grabbing his phone.
"What's wrong? Are you done eating already?" Damien asked, looking surprised.
"No… yeah, I'm done. I just remembered I have to call my mom," Aiden said, forcing a polite smile.
"Stop that. The doctor said you need to eat to recover your strength," Damien reminded him. He reached out, gently pulling Aiden back toward his seat, pointedly ignoring Jessica who was still hovering. "What do you want, Jessica? Sit down and eat if you're going to."
"But I want to sit with you," she pouted.
"Oh, come on, Jessica. Stop being pushy. The seat is taken. Sit somewhere else," Charlie snapped.
"Hey, Damien, your brother is being—" Jessica started, but she stopped mid-sentence when she saw Damien's expression. He looked truly annoyed.
"I think I'll head to my room now. I'm full," Aiden said, giving Damien a small smile before quickly slipping away from the table.
He stopped at the edge of the hallway when he heard Jessica's voice drop to a venomous stage-whisper: "Pack these filthy plates off the table. I can't believe this place has become a shelter for dogs and cats."
Damien stood up abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. "Jessica, what exactly do you mean by that?"
"Nothing, dear," she replied smoothly, sitting down as if she hadn't said a word.
Damien didn't stay to argue. Frustrated and disgusted, he turned and walked out of the dining room.
"I knew that sharp tongue of yours would get you in trouble eventually. Enjoy your lunch alone," Charlie said with a dry chuckle, standing up to follow his brother.