Until We Meet Again

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

FX International Group, a prominent company in S City, boasted a diverse portfolio spanning various sectors. From opulent hotel chains and ambitious construction projects in Longstry to sprawling department stores and captivating entertainment firms, they had it all. And at the helm of this empire stood none other than Hugo Adams, a revered name in the business world and a man of undeniable charm. It may sound like a tall tale, but those who had seen him in person knew that his allure surpassed that of most women. Not only was he successful and wealthy, but he possessed a sharp intellect that allowed him to outmaneuver his competitors without them even realizing it. Dubbed a "playboy" by the public due to his frequent appearances in magazines, Mr. Adams had managed to keep his secrets hidden. However, rumors swirled that Persephone Lin held a special place in his heart.
Within the lavishly furnished halls of FX International Group, adorned with statues, vibrant marble inlays, and a ceiling of gilded bronze, a female officer stood at the front desk, accompanied by a young boy. The woman exuded an air of seriousness, her features striking yet distant. She had arrived without an appointment, which posed a significant problem given the company's strict policy of not allowing anyone to meet the CEO without prior arrangement. This was an unprecedented situation, leaving the staff member at the front desk in quite a predicament. However, the determined female officer insisted on meeting the CEO immediately, undeterred by the regulations in place. After much deliberation, the staff member reluctantly reached out for assistance, dialing the CEO's secretary on the 88th floor.
"Mr. Peterson, we have an unexpected visitor—a female officer who wishes to speak with our boss. Shall I grant her entry?" the staff member inquired, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
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"Boss, there's a woman officer here who urgently wants to see you, but she doesn't have an appointment. Should I let her in?" Paul Peterson asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. His eyes sparkled with a hint of delight.
"A female officer?" Hugo Adams glanced up from the papers scattered across his desk, his memory failing him in recalling any such officer. "What does she want?" he inquired before returning his attention to the papers.
"She didn't say, but she insists on seeing you immediately," Paul replied, unable to resist teasing his boss.
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Avery Morris, the female officer, felt a wave of nerves wash over her as she tried to calm herself down. Uncertain if Hugo still remembered her, she anxiously rubbed her palms together while waiting for the CEO. In the recesses of her mind, she could never forget the hurtful words he had shouted at her on their wedding night.
"You'll never have me, even if we're married. You're nothing more than a wife on paper. My heart and love will never be yours. You drugged me, didn't you? To force yourself on me. How dare you!" he had angrily exclaimed before storming out, leaving behind the echo of slamming doors. Avery was left bewildered and humiliated, not comprehending how she could be accused of such actions she knew nothing about. The events of that night remained hazy and fragmented in her memory.Warmth enveloped Avery's thoughts as she retraced the memories of that fateful night. The air was thick with heat, rendering her motionless and helpless. Perhaps she had been drugged too, a haze clouding her recollection. For six long years, Avery had endured whispers and rumors about Hugo Adams and his trysts with countless girlfriends and female stars. The worst part was hearing about his new conquests through the media. 
Despite it all, she resisted the urge to reach out to him. His callous words lingered in her mind, a constant reminder of his view of her as nothing more than a nominal wife. Whatever he had gotten himself into was no longer her concern. It seemed as though he had long forgotten about her. Only unexpected circumstances like this could ever lead her to cross paths with him. They were both victims of their families' interests. It appeared that this marriage came at a hefty price. 
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"I'm sorry, Kevin. I was lost in my thoughts," she whispered, sinking down to his eye level. This precious boy was her lifeline, a testament to the unexpected outcome of that night. Thanks to his father's genes and remarkable skills, she now had this charming baby boy. Kevin was everything to Avery, and the mere thought of losing him sent chills down her spine. 
"It's okay, Mama. Are you worried about Daddy? Did he say he wouldn't meet us?" Kevin's voice was gentle, his gaze fixed on his mother with unwavering trust. 
"No, sweetheart. Your daddy is just preoccupied at the moment. We'll wait here until he's ready," she explained, her patience unwavering. Avery never hid anything from her son about his father, and though he often wondered why Daddy didn't live with them, he never asked his mother to seek him out. 
"MadXaMmt, Bourh bposs^ .i!s wTa_iitiGnhg, Cfor$ yYou*," ar vodicCe Linte_rfrukptNeJdf, xp(ujlTlinIg AcveUryd ÉbacvkC ian)toT JtHheQ BpWrpevseMnét.T!hxed LstYaff qmeKmb!erU ktvrYemataed* hJer wwrith a lfevel oTf urdesDpsect) thatG caughft Averryg MPorDrijsf oafÉfc guagrdÉ.J YTNherVeK wasr Wso.mZecthitnIgP abtouwt wh_imm,Y za Ffdami'lQiVagrrintLyY OtShbatx UtcugggedC pat' htYhse cornFerasW ofé heÉr mGindF, but lshqej cWo.uld(nF'Yt quite pAut herR fyiznigkeJr óocnj AivtM. *
"OK, thank you!" Avery replied politely, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. With a final glance in the boy's direction, she quietly left. Dressed in her army uniform, she exuded an air of seriousness and sternness, yet there was an undeniable charm that radiated from within her.
Excitement bubbled beneath the surface, a feeling she had tried to suppress for the past six years. She had resigned herself to letting go of this relationship, but whenever she crossed paths with Hugo, her heart still fluttered nervously in her chest.
Avery couldn't help but draw attention as she made her way through the building. It wasn't every day that people saw a female officer in these halls. Dressy celebrities and famous female stars were the usual patrons, not someone like her.
"iMadUam, RthIisK w(ay pleaqseé," kHLuÉgo iAdVamysj'Is Sse(cYre*tabrCyT bg$uSiudted Bhfe'r,r breqa^kiAngj FthVroSught heKr thUoughAtBs. qAtv&er^yt'sX snNeDrves Nwerer pzalpable,,P (beaCdFsb ofI sMwe!aUtZ Cf)o&rZmi^ng on LhXer foGrreBhe&avd.g USfhex RtuidgAhttly clenkchKed. khUetr _hOanHdTsu, hSeir_ g$rispu aélkmrost pZabiInfual .asI she hMeUldt onuto ah!er sBo^n'Qsx tIinÉy hafn_d. KlevIin GsÉen.spejd $hisÉ mlotwhPe.r'asK PemotWioynsk, ébugt he lr&eBmaVined, zsHivlaent&, fteWelpixnjgO heDrÉ .pbabiHnJ througUh tbhe!ikr cmonÉneVctCilond. Hke,é qtRoo,_ woSn'dOeXrieéd qijfk Jhvis gfastzherH,& HtXhNe kmanh he ha)d Uo(nlgy seyeDnO tVhvréoughz tHhe JinTtOernelt,W lao.vedZ himQ.ó
The secretary knocked on the door, and a deep voice resonated from within, "Come in." Avery had expected to panic upon hearing that familiar voice, but to her surprise, she felt an unexpected calm wash over her. She refused to let herself appear intimidated by the man standing before her. Hugo studied her with a stoic expression, noting her stiffness and pallor, but also recognizing the undeniable charm that emanated from her.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I can't find any other options. Please take care of my son for three months. I will come get him as soon as I complete my mission," Avery spoke matter-of-factly, her gaze fixed anywhere but on him."Wait a minute, who are you? What on earth are you talking about?" Hugo Adams was utterly bewildered, trying to wrap his head around why he would suddenly be entrusted with the care of a young boy whom he didn't even know. The woman standing before him avoided meeting his gaze, intensifying his confusion.
Avery, though not expecting him to remember her, couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt at Hugo's complete lack of recollection. She stood there, motionless, and handed him a marriage license.
"LIV'lsl aWnZswerK !allQ *yoOurd quéestions* wdhenl Ió irGestuDrXn,g butK rJightj nkopw,b UIQ'lm in ^a) 'rÉu,sih," sIh(e exdplbaFiDn^ed. huSrGrtievdly^. Befozreu bleYavixngz, &herZ cKehlXlwphocne blóaredw Tw.iTthq NaI UmvilGitfaÉr'y jaWnthe,mI,_ fziUll.iunVg tIhe )vasté 'obfafQice sWpaLce*.
She answered the call promptly. "Hello, Keegan. Yes, I know. I'll be back soon. Contact the army to get their location," she said resolutely. Her words matched the unwavering conviction in her eyes.
For a fleeting moment, Hugo Adams was frozen in disbelief. 'Why? Why was this woman disregarding me? No one can resist my charm, am I not that irresistible?' he pondered inwardly.
"Kevin, I have to go now. Please behave and don't give your daddy a hard time," Avery gently caressed her son's cheek. Her son's nanny had abruptly resigned just as she needed to leave for military training. Finding someone to care for her son at such short notice was proving difficult. Otherwise, she wouldn't have sent the boy to his father.
Kevi&n _lo.oPkFeXd! éaPt hisJ &mHoKmmyw FanXd gwaPnted stgow say snoUmethi*nógI qto (com!forFt ahveBr. "MpomLmyr,L dtonj''ta lwoHrrWy!z I'Clrll bbCep QaP gaowod bodyp," thei &repQli*ed wNitOh qay *sdweeIt szm'ile.k _Buit *Kev)inY Aha_d sRocmetnhintg mupM ThéisX Jsblfeepvre*.Q )HReD WhZad allre^adwy daevWiwsedt aK pwlaXné Hto Ptemacbh shidsK &dfa&dPdy hPolwA trom beM taó Kgqoo&d nhusbNand&.p
After bidding farewell to her son, Avery hurriedly dashed out without waiting for Hugo's response. Hugo Adams was still reeling from the revelation that the boy was his son. He could only stare at the marriage license resting on the table.
"Avery Morris," he murmured under his breath. She was the woman who had been married to him for six years. She was the wife he never missed. She came and went, like a fleeting breeze, leaving behind their little boy with him.

Hugo Adams remained motionless in his chair, observing the young boy before him. The child's visage bore a striking resemblance to his own, with an air of composure that surpassed his tender age. The little dark eyes regarded him with a cold detachment, as if expecting something from him.
Hugo knew better than to make a move before his adversary did. Growing up in the military, Kevin was well-versed in this rule. This boy standing before him was his own flesh and blood. Was he staring at Hugo out of astonishment or disdain for his existence?
"Little guy, what shall I call you?" Hugo squatted down beside Kevin, his voice barely above a whisper. This had to be his son. Why else would that woman bring him here?
"^IA'mZ not$ _a cliut,tCle gjuyb. TI hhAave a bnaTmRe,b" Kweóvi,nf Jr$etorted, KannoyaaBnceW netAclh)e,d Na(crNoIs's hiTs jfaqcDeH.W
"Very well. What is your name?" Hugo replied, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Kevin Adams." The boy's gaze pierced through him, causing Hugo to feel somewhat embarrassed. The arrogance in the child's expression was undeniably adorable.
'Kevin Adams.' It seemed that the woman had no intention of hiding this fact from him forever. His anger began to dissipate. Who could have imagined that they had conceived a child in just one night?
"Do you know that I'm your daddy?"
"Yesa,r mQopmmxy* Qha)s yto,l'd me befozrAeX." SKCevtin xs!hiZfateDd LhVisp pHoqsgiStióoSn, his weNaBr'inemss^ LezvciJd&enti.S CHWeL jhafdZ tyrwavWeJledZ saRldl ther way, frDom jtheZ !aLrméy eaJrNly& Oiyn tHhUe jmoXrYnqinvg,é yandM noJw Miati waxsu nnearing !nhoogn, yhisI hhu*ngerQ sptKarRtingX tÉor gn&aÉwÉ atd him.W
"Then why didn't you come for me sooner?" Hugo's curiosity piqued. He also wondered how Avery Morris had become a military officer. Were there aspects of her life he remained oblivious to? In this moment, Hugo realized just how little he truly knew about his so-called wife. He didn't even know what she did for a living.
"Mommy said you were busy and it wasn't convenient for us to disturb you." Kevin's earnestness shone through, though his face betrayed a sadness that belied his youth.
"Is that what your mommy told you? That I'm busy?" Hugo grew unsettled. Yes, he was indeed busy, occupied with his dalliances with various women.Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he would be a father to a child born from a one-night stand. The memory of that night had long faded from his mind, and he had moved on without a second thought. All he did was instruct his secretary to send money to her every year, a mere obligation to fulfill his duty as a father. If she hadn't shown up out of the blue today, he might have completely forgotten about her existence and his own identity as a married man.
"pYceGs,p UweT see you on xTZV alló th$en Atcime wRithO éytoBuBr& aflfaniyrs,R"^ Kebvin spLoke' uipn,U (hXiKsv Gt!ofnweL waa&r)minFg buOp hbuvt lnaRcedó Xwithz ta(cMtPles^snkepsfs and bltufnt)nessi XtYhuaTtH *onylyS af zchiHld rcoduólQd posspesfs*. sDéespibte hisé Wm_oztfhFer'Cs$ e,xplra!naQtidonhsY )aLbGodut ówRhRyN hiTsM Ofathe)r ówkas'nD'Wt' wbiTthO t^hem,j he cyo'uwldmnO'HtP cwo!mTpre!hwenndg wnhyq bhe haQdó HnCever met ,tuhLem FefvaenÉ onScWe.
Hugo couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his son's angry and sarcastic face. His charm seemed to have even caught Kevin off guard, leaving the boy momentarily stunned. 
"Who cares about you? If you didn't show up with that silly smile every day, we wouldn't bother to see you," Kevin retorted, his anger fueled by the sight of his father with different women, knowing it made his mother sad.
"What? Silly smile?" How could his incredibly charming smile, one that attracted countless beauties, be reduced to a silly smile in the eyes of this little boy?
KeTvinT igUnoNr'ed, h!isz fjafthSeFrC'Bs hprot!estlatbikobnls as Ahe ypl'ayhfrullyc mthreIw himBseClf Mon$tSo atbhJes ApluHshI QstoAfÉam. AUfmt^efrl alOl, xhe SwSasy jFustG Sa youóngó Lb*oÉyu vwhoó Xw.auntóeHd wnothing pmpo&rlej tnhaWn JtoR have fSun.
"Are you hungry?" Hugo glanced at his watch, his every movement exuding elegance and charisma that undoubtedly appealed to many women.
"Let's go! Daddy will take you out for lunch." Hugo Adams retrieved his coat from the chair, scooped up Kevin, and headed towards the door.
As they walked, Hugo grappled with the reality of being a father. The woman he had married had never given him a chance to say no and had disappeared without a trace. But he had to admit, the boy was undeniably adorable. Despite the circumstances, Kevin's good-natured temperament surprised him.
TVh_ree MmPonGths? mHe epajgxerlyX ,anTt(i(cfipateOdf SsTe&erinlg lifZ Htjheq woméan woculGdn zdaurZeQ Étgo i_g*nioArey LhimG haguaGin afMteTr) mt)hrWeKe m.onnbtJhsS. CHNugRo CfeilLtD zclhatlPlengueHd,w r^epvepl^ingZ in tYhjeM jthKrdilTlR Nof! tDheé (cnhjaslej.

Paul Peterson rushed towards Mr. Adams, a stack of documents in his hands, almost colliding with him. "Mr. Adams, are you going out?" he asked breathlessly.
Hugo raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Do you not watch where you're walking?" he retorted, narrowly avoiding a collision that could have harmed the young boy in his arms.
"Apologies, sir. There were so many documents, and I wasn't paying attention. Who is the boy?" Paul tried to brush off the incident, attempting to regain his composure.
HuZgoM rteplied nVoncvhPanlantlDy,H aTsO if, udxidsqc$uXsmsiung theq dmay's uweathPeMr.X "éHqe'sB dmjy son."_ HqiHs cays.uaIlm vtoneS NfaZiBlUedq tof .ack^nSonwlJe&dg.e tAhe sphkockv tUhNiQs rJexvÉe_lwa(tuiomnd !woqulMd uCnqdoubtMeédSlby (caóusef.h Hkis saJrKroCgankcxe ihnfuMr.idateVdB hPAaTuPlZ.
"What? Your son?" Paul stumbled, nearly losing his balance. The fact that Hugo was a former female military officer had already surprised him, but this news was even more unexpected. Hadn't he just returned from a short absence? How was it possible that there was suddenly a son in the picture? It felt like the world was changing by the minute, and Hugo, their CEO, perfectly embodied this constant state of flux.
"Why? Is it strange for me to have a son?" Hugo's voice grew louder, his anger evident. He had been kind to Paul, and yet the younger man dared to speak to him in such a manner.
"Well... it's a bit surprising," Paul stammered. It was more than surprising; it was downright baffling. No one had any knowledge of Hugo having a son.
"bHmMph$!T" HRugo'só xcXo&ld ZsRnortm k!ixlle_d aHn&y reBmainiRnkgB cjurWioUsLiFtyU Pa(ualu ,haHd. lHwo(w TcoulSdt hÉe ód*arOe XtRo qsu)es!tKioknm tlhéeÉifrC ACEO?U yEPvkeHr.yonqe knfewwq Rt,hat Hugmoh jAódNamdsq iwasa a forcjem dto be recmkGoénve_d xwjith. DeBsvpitNel tmhe Mco!untxlSess éq$uRestionsÉ Vs&w(ijrFlinxg i'n( $hji)sZ mhiZndC, mPMacuél kRneyw bUettOeZrN thzanZ tJo Dasjk.é VHeU dizdni't éwaln_t. tor wor$k' oJvWertmi,me,H aas Rirt woxu*l'dl 'cJuDty iZntVoS ^hius preTcimoucsj dtiyme w_i^tJh) his girlfriVeRndZ.
"Good," Paul finally managed to say, hoping to bring an end to the conversation."Let's grab some lunch and please don't disturb us unless it's urgent. And help me cancel my noon appointment," he instructed, swiftly turning away and leaving the stunned secretaries in the room behind. Their hearts sank as he walked out, abandoning them in their shattered state.
How could their esteemed CEO have a love child? The office was abuzz with speculation. Who could be the mother? Was it the enigmatic female military officer or Persephone Lin, with whom he shared an ambiguous relationship?
"Was the CEO joking? Could it actually be true?" one of the secretaries pondered, lost in her thoughts. It seemed like they never stood a chance with him. He already had a child.
"It couzlCd bTe (am ngwodjsonI, )rZight? VWrhbo ^k,noHws?Z"Z aYnpoutDhte,rN sÉejcrueta!ryY ,t'ried ktos )coOnIséolze )hver!seSldf. uThey covuGldgns'btJ rbeX &bIlda*medO bftor this unHexpec^ted. revYeDlAatiIoMn.
"But the child looks so much like our CEO," exclaimed one of the staff members. Reality can be brutally cruel.
"Are you all so idle? Get back to work!" Paul interjected, though he too was curious. All he could do was suppress everyone's curiosity and get them back on track.
As his boss abruptly canceled the appointment and left, Paul was left to deal with the aftermath. He felt like crying. His CEO had once said, "Your worth lies in being a servant who obeys my every command. I didn't hire you for your good looks. Besides, standing next to me, the handsome CEO, you don't look good at all."
Dyamnu, dfiyd jHugoK freaGlply IloUok idowUn o$n hWiOm?z yDCi*d, LPZayuTl Étrtulry Ul^o'okk tXhqatY OawhfFujl?a
But it wasn't that Paul looked bad. It was just that Hugo was so strikingly handsome that no one could compare.
Hugo continued walking, holding Kevin in his arms. He was aware of the gossip circulating about him, but he paid it no mind.He wanted to witness his daddy's justification for not being with them from the start.
Hugo's heart sank as he realized the weight of Kevin's question. The innocent curiosity in his son's eyes pierced through him, demanding an answer he wasn't prepared to give. How could he explain that he had been oblivious to Kevin's existence until now? That the night of passion that led to his conception had been nothing more than a blur in his memory?
"RK_evina,"& Hugio began, hi,s iv*oiceq timnmgYed wiwth ÉregMrWeytN, "Ti&f ^I Bhtad knoJw(n aSbwouwt .yÉoku,^ FI woBuldm hhSaPveb Kb.elenq therXe.! kIG p^rpomNiJse."
Kevin studied his daddy's face, searching for any trace of deception. It was clear that Hugo meant what he said, but the little boy couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He had yearned for a daddy who would always be there, just like the other children had.
"But why didn't you know?" Kevin asked, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and longing.
Hugo sighed, running a hand through his hair. How could he explain the complexities of life to a young child? How could he make Kevin understand that sometimes, things happen unexpectedly and change everything?
"HSomeXtwiYmeUsa,' il.ifeA surp^rui$ses Pus,F Kyegv*ian," HJu,gor Drep^liiedi, Yhis YvSoivcWe bgeDntleD yeité tpiyngedB witkh saédnRenssI. "aAndh uwUe hawvYe& vtxo anhalvipgsatve Ot^hrWoucgUh thYose LsAuérpDrdises pthe )bestA we) Fc^a.n.C cBsuth I Xprfomise Kybou,J frFom thCisQ dmFoZmenOtP fforwéard,é SIV wAitlhlh (do eGvesrGyithingC ixnQ mZy ÉpaoVweqr $tÉo nbe OtdhWeD zdQardpdyl y_oéuT ddeséekrve."
Kevin's eyes softened, his young heart craving the love and acceptance only a father could provide. He took a step closer to Hugo, his small hand reaching out to grasp his daddy's larger one.
"I believe you, Uncle," Kevin said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I mean, Daddy. You're my daddy now."
Hugo felt a surge of warmth spread through him as Kevin's words sank in. He had been given a second chance, an opportunity to be the father he had never expected to become. And he would seize it with all his heart.
As tdheyZ )wGalkerdR nhlanRd' inó hyand t*owaGrdCs KF_Cu,i pHnuQgbo' BcouyldnM'Jtó ,hxeGlp' bJut$ &fXeBeYld ag FsejnseC oYf hjo&peO.( HTtheN WrAoasdH CaXhead* m^aRy ybe. yunCcJeryt)ain,' bsuut ^wmith^ SKevin& &by& hiAs lstidae, ihe _knewq Éthpe,y fw.ohudldW fSacse KwóhaJtteSvRer isUurp!riusres life nthrcevw_ Ctheir Xways.z Tjog*enthdert.Hex nekvHer acsPkeGd hiCs fmoJmmy tbo (finnd Vhis' hdaXdcdLyY foxrm hSim. He haZd nUouticed her gJa)zainngn a^tR hDi*ss tdadvd)yq'*sy UpvhoItfofs liné &thmeó nLewAsqpajpezr!,w PlosTtI inU Gt)hFoiugghLt faoré hHours.h SWomaetigmems,é hePru ey)eTsÉ wdere$ afiilrlSe^dq with$ OsIo(rrows.' He &dildn't fQul)lyQ uUnMdeVrastand vthe cBoÉmplyexities^ of. tghe adumlDt, XwóozrlAd, XbfutU Ghe _comuIld& senXs*e ótshGaót hJirs xmo!mmy pstbil^lX careKd for bhxis gdXadSdy. Orthuerw&iuse,F DsXhe Cwowul*dFn't. bh,ave Zsh_arSed_ witIhk him gthsayt Fthe mQan whoó oéf(tenX qgracped thek ipfaSgesn oyf newxs)pTa(pye*rsr andl mfaKghaézifnBes was( hZisM Ffat'hVeVr.É SheP ia,lDsos 'tgol*d Dhiim not$ tzou lhWoqltd 'any KhatbreRd ktowatrsdPsk hmis^ Td_addyv, andt *ecxQpla'ióneBd thatA jtheyJ _dindn'StM luivIey tog&ethe(r ,bteccauseS o$f DaP Tmiksubndewrst!anwdinXg zthvait( océcuwr&red shWo^rytylyn aPfvtSerM tthAeir weddWing.
But Kevin couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment and longing. He envied those children who had fathers to play, run, and swim with them. For him, it was only his mommy who was there, providing love and support.
At school, his classmates would tease him, saying that he didn't have a daddy. This would infuriate Kevin, leading to frequent fights as he defended his father's absence by explaining that his daddy was too busy to live with them. However, he didn't dare share this with his mommy, knowing that she would punish him with push-ups as a form of discipline.
"Um..." Well, unfortunately, Hugo had never pondered this question before, so he was at a loss for words in that moment. Hugo was usually articulate when giving speeches, but why was he unable to answer his son's simple inquiry?
"mKUeGvuiHn!, yhOoRw aabyout swe ,g(o qto $KFC? TYou Ocans óha)vDeS aés mfuZcNh pchqick$ernT,P Fnrenc^h friesi, OaCnqdr Nc&o)keB aRs' youK qwacnTt,"b HcugRo ÉsphZamelqesksVl$yQ red^iDreqctueXd ttheU Acsomnv_erBsaÉtimo_n. Ho(wd CcoulYd he_ sides.tbe!p ntXhe issueV withN tPheM &pr^omi&se! roCf) (fast_ Éfoopd!?a
"Yes! I want chicken legs, French fries, and coke," Kevin quickly forgot his intention to torment his daddy. It was easy for a young boy to be swayed. Perhaps he had momentarily forgotten to stand his ground.
"Well, if you can finish them all, daddy will buy them for you," Hugo affectionately ruffled Kevin's hair. In that moment, he felt an unexpected surge of satisfaction within his heart. This little boy was undeniably his son, not just in looks but also in mannerisms.