"Mom, where are you?" I called out as I opened the front door. I strolled through the living room, immediately noticing that the television wasn't broadcasting cartoons or cooking shows, signaling my father's presence. I almost turned around to make a hasty retreat, but my mother's voice pulled me back.

"Danny, is that you, love?" she emerged from the kitchen, a bright smile lighting up her face. I approached her and wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug. "Your father's home today," she said cheerfully as if I should be thrilled to see him. She held my hand and led me into the kitchen.

I turned the corner and there he sat at the table, engrossed in a newspaper and sipping something hot from a mug. My mother left me at the entrance, taking a seat opposite my father. He glanced up at me from behind his newspaper.

"Daniel." My dad, well, he's not the warmest person you'll ever meet. He's older now, with little streaks of grey hair poking through his once-dark locks. His face perpetually wears a scowl, as if the world owes him something, and he's never hesitant to show his displeasure. He used to be slim, but over the years, that belly of his has grown, thanks to his fondness for alcohol. He's not the kind of dad you see in movies, offering support and encouragement. No, he hated just about everything I did, always quick with criticism but never with praise. It's a mystery to me how he can tolerate my sister, Nicola, even though she's a ray of sunshine. My mother's reasoning for staying with him is that she loves him, but I could never fathom how she could love someone like him, someone who seemed to dislike every fiber of my being. There's always been a nagging thought in the back of my mind that maybe it's because I was adopted, but I've never had the courage to voice it.

"Hey, Dad. I just came to see Mom," I said, keeping my distance. I subtly indicated that I wanted to leave by my mom's side.

"Forgot about your old man, huh?" he asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "You become some big shot in the drug business, and suddenly you're too good for your own father?"

"Dad, I'm not in the drug business," I protested.

"Then where do you get all that money? Your 'suitors'?" he inquired, suspicion clouding his gaze. "Your mother doesn't need to get tangled up in your mess. So, you can keep your money."

"What—"

"I'm not..." I trailed off, turning to look at my mother, who wore a regretful expression. She stood up and led me out of the kitchen. "Mom, what the hell was that??" I asked once we were away from my father.

"I told him about the money." 

"Why?" I questioned.

"Because he thought I was cheating on him," she confessed. "He thought I was taking money from someone else, so I told him it was from you. He told me never to accept money from you again. I'm sorry, sweetie."

"Mom, it's okay. He doesn't have to know. Just...don't spend it conspicuously. Don't draw attention to it," I said, taking out wads of cash from my jacket pocket and pressing them into her hand. I closed her fingers around the money.

"No, Daniel, I-"

"Yes, Mom. Take it," I insisted. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Tell Nicky that the best person in the entire universe says he loves her. Don't change a word."

She chuckled a welcome sound. "Love you."

"I love you too, Mom," I replied, then turned and left her house. My visit to her place didn't exactly go the way I'd hoped. I had this idea in my head, you know? I thought I'd walk into her house, and she'd whip up one of those amazing home-cooked meals she used to make. The smell would waft through the air, and we'd sit down at the kitchen table, having one of those deep, heart-to-heart conversations. I needed someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't judge me or get tangled up in the mess that was my life.

In my mind, it was like a scene from a movie. I'd pour my heart out, and she'd offer me pearls of wisdom and advice on how to navigate the crazy path I was on. I just wanted her to tell me that I wasn't alone, that there was some hope, a way out of the mess I'd found myself in.

But, as always, reality had other plans. Instead of that cozy meal and a warm chat, I walked into the lion's den — my father's presence. He'd never been the understanding type. His arrival was like a stark reminder of the messed-up family dynamics I'd grown up with. It was a painful reminder of why I'd tried to distance myself from them in the first place.

As my mom led me out of the kitchen, I couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment. My father's cold gaze and harsh words made it clear that he had no interest in bonding or having a real conversation, and quite frankly neither did I. I was just upset he was here instead of at work.

The truth hit me like a punch to the gut — I was truly on my own in this crazy journey. No one to lean on, no safe harbor. I had to rely on my own instincts and smarts to navigate the stormy seas ahead. And as I stood there, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I was making all the wrong moves. The uncertainty weighed on me like a heavy cloak, and I couldn't escape the sinking feeling that I was lost in a sea of troubles, desperately searching for a lifeline that seemed farther away with each passing moment.

I began my walk back home, my eyes scanning for anyone who might try to chase me down the street. I wasn't in the mood for that. As I walked, I decided to call Lukas. He hadn't reached out to me since our last conversation, which was a day ago. I didn't know what was happening with him, and I hoped he would share when I called.

His phone rang for what felt like an eternity, and I was tempted to hang up. But then he answered. I couldn't help but smile as if he were standing right in front of me. "Hello, Lukas."

"What's up? Why are you calling? I'm busy," he replied curtly.

"Since when do you not want to see me?" I teased. I could almost picture him rolling his eyes and thinking something negative. "Listen, I can't really talk right now. I'm busy."

"Busy doing what?" I pressed.

"I'm at the doctor—"

"What? Why am I not there? Did you not want me there?" I asked him quickly.

"What? Why didn't you want me there? Did you not want me there?" I interrupted, my concern evident.

"Dude, it's not an ultrasound, it's just—"

"I don't care. I should be there. Who's with you?" I demanded.

"No one. Kol gave me a ride, but I'm here alone."

"I'm coming. Just don't leave," I said quickly.

"Danny—" he began, but I hung up the phone. I hadn't been there the first time he went to the doctor, as he went alone. Why hadn't he invited me? I felt like I should be there. We might not be the closest, but I should be there for him. I was the only person who seemed to care about him.

I spun around at the sound of my name, and my eyes widened in surprise. There they were, Har and Boris, right behind me. The shock threatened to make me jump back, but I quickly reminded myself that I couldn't afford to show fear. I couldn't let them see that they still had the power to intimidate me.

Maintaining my composure, I forced myself to stand my ground. Har and Boris, the enforcers of a world I had naively stumbled into, were now mere obstacles in my path. I couldn't afford to back down or let my anxiety get the best of me.

"Hey, guys, what's good?" I said, my voice sounding more confident than I felt. I cleared my throat, trying to mask the unease that still gnawed at me. The tension in the air was palpable as we exchanged uneasy glances.

Boris leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with a sinister suggestion. "You know, Daniel," he began, a wicked grin forming on his face as he glanced back at the house, "It seems like maybe you need a bit of incentive." Har joined in with a nod of agreement.

My heart raced as I tried to anticipate their next move. The mention of my sister, Nicola, sent a shiver down my spine. They knew exactly where to press to make me comply, using my love for her as leverage.

I swallowed hard, my resolve hardening. I couldn't let them use her against me, and I needed to find a way out of this dangerous game.

I weighed the situation carefully, my mind racing to find a solution. Reluctantly, I asked the question I dreaded, "Okay, okay, how soon do you want him?" I turned to Boris, who exchanged a knowing look with Har before they both broke into sinister smiles.

"As soon as possible," Boris replied, his voice dripping with malice. It was clear there was no room for negotiation, and the pressure was on to carry out their sinister plan.

"Can't you at least pay me? Can't you see I'm struggling out here?"

As Boris and Har started to leave, Boris's cold words lingered in the air. "Get us the boy, Daniel," he commanded. They didn't look back, leaving me with a chilling ultimatum. Har waved at me teasingly, "See you around." I flashed him my middle finger and he just scowled at me before turning around completely to walk away. Gosh, what a lap dog.

I don't know what the hell I'm actually going to do. I haven't even talked to Kol about any of this. He doesn't know what I know. But should he? Should I tell him about what's really going on? Does he have to know? Perhaps I could find a way to persuade him to spend time with me, and then lead him straight into Boris and his gang. I would survive, but he would have to figure out how to escape on his own—after all, he had willingly walked into this mess, while my involvement had been more...passive.

__

I caught up with Lukas outside the hospital, where he was sitting next to a plant. I had walked from my mom's place to his, which took some time, so he had likely finished his appointment long before I arrived. I chose not to ask about it since I was the one running late. Lukas got up with the assistance of his crutches and started to walk, and I followed closely behind. He seemed distant.

"You waited.." I said just so we wouldn't be walking in silence.

"I thought you would've come with a car."

"I don't have a car. You're the rich boy, where's yours?" I asked him and he chuckled. "Rich boy?"

"Yes. Rich boy."

"We're taking the bus." He said, obviously done with the topic and I simply shrugged my shoulders. Taking the bus was no issue for me; after all, I didn't mind it. However, I half-expected Lukas to have a problem with it, considering he came from a well-off background. It often seemed like rich folks had an aversion to anything public, whether it was transportation or spaces.

We arrived at the bus stop and I took a seat at the bench, but he remained standing. I ignored his small action. "What did the doctor say?"

"Nothing."

"He didn't say anything? At all?"

"She. It was a she." His eyes remained on the road, which had a small line of traffic in the opposite lane. I didn't even bother to check the time to at least estimate how long we would be waiting here.

"Does it matter, Lukas? What happened?"

"I'm not as broken. Obviously. Why do you even want to know? Why does it matter to you?" His questions aggravate me. I folded my arms across my chest and turned my head in a completely different direction. I'm done with him. He's so difficult. When I don't try with him, I'm the wrong one, when I try, I'm still the wrong one. What am I supposed to do? Not say or do anything?

Neither of us spoke for a while. 

The bus finally arrived after a seemingly endless twenty minutes of awkward silence. As it pulled up, another passenger, a man in an almost oversized shirt, joined us at the bus stop. Lukas boarded first, and then the other guy followed him, leaving me to enter last.

Lukas chose a seat all the way at the back, subtly indicating that he preferred some space between us. I opted for a seat three rows ahead, realizing that he didn't want me sitting next to him. The bus was relatively filled, with the front section nearly occupied entirely. I gazed out the window as we embarked on our journey. My phone became my fidget toy, spinning it idly in my hand as a soft sigh escaped my lips. When I eventually turned my gaze back inside the bus, it landed on the confused face of a woman with her chubby child sitting beside her. I quickly averted my eyes, not wanting to engage in any conversation.

The bus made a brief stop, allowing a few passengers to disembark and a handful to board. Among them was a man in a suit, a sharp contrast to the typical bus-goers. He settled into the seat next to mine, prompting me to strike up a conversation.

"Hey," I greeted him, prompting a hearty laugh from the man. His laughter was charming, making me think of someone like Christian Grey, attractive and perhaps a bit mysterious. While I wasn't looking to be someone's Anastasia, a little flirtation wouldn't hurt.

"Hey," he replied, his eyes occasionally drifting down to my lips. I couldn't help but flash a smile. "Do you usually take the bus?" I inquired, genuinely curious about this impeccably dressed stranger.

His answer left me surprised yet intrigued. "No, just today. Car troubles," he explained before smoothly shifting the conversation, "What's your name?"

My name rolled off my tongue, and his eyes lingered on my lips for a tantalizing moment before returning to meet mine. I continued with a playful question, "Am I really that irresistible?"

His reply, while complimentary, included a dash of humor, which I appreciated. Our banter continued as we discussed age and attraction, with him modestly downplaying his own appeal.

As the bus approached Lukas's neighborhood, I glanced out the window and realized we were just two stops away from his destination. Time was running out if I wanted to get this stranger's phone number.

Observing the departing passengers, I was taken aback when I saw Lukas leaving the bus as well. Panic set in, and I muttered a soft curse under my breath as I hastily made my exit. Catching up to Lukas outside the bus, I questioned him, "What's wrong?"

He replied, "There were way too many people on the bus."

I scoffed, exasperated. "It's the bus—what did you expect?"

"Sorry. I thought it would have been empty," he sheepishly admitted. I was confused by that response.

I rolled my eyes but didn't press the issue further. Lukas appeared oddly pleased to embark on our walk, I on the other hand was already planning his funeral in my mind.