Moments ago, this man had looked like a monster.
Now… he was crying like a broken child.
“H-how did you draw this?” William asked, his voice shaking, unable to look away.
The boy hesitated.
“I… I saw her,” he said quietly.
William turned slowly.
“Where?”
“She used to come to me… when I slept near the old church,” the boy said. “She brought me bread sometimes… covered me with her coat… told me I had to be strong…”
William’s chest tightened.
Elizabeth had died… eleven years ago.
Or so he believed.
“What’s your name?” he asked, barely breathing.
“Lucas,” the boy said.
The world tilted.
Lucas.
The name Elizabeth had chosen… for the child William believed had never been born.
Memories crashed into him.
Back then, he wasn’t a billionaire. Just an ambitious man obsessed with success.
When Elizabeth told him she was pregnant… he panicked.
“I can’t do this… not now,” he had said. “This will ruin everything.”
She cried. Begged.
But he walked away.
Months later, he got the news:
She died during childbirth.
The baby didn’t survive.
He never questioned it.
It was easier to bury the pain… and move on.
But now…
“Lucas…” William whispered, staring at the boy. “Do you… know who your father is?”
The boy shook his head.