The man stepped back abruptly, eyes fixed on the boy as confusion tightened his expression.
“What did you say?”
The boy dragged his sleeve across his cheek, smearing dust and tears together in one rough streak.
“My dad is alive,” he whispered. “But they told everyone he died.”
A sharp, uneven breath escaped the man.
“Where is he?”
The boy’s eyes darted across the ballroom, uneasy under the weight of polished guests and silent security watching every movement.
“He said only you could help. He said you owed him a promise.”
The man’s eyelids fell shut for a moment.
Twelve years ago, Scott had pulled him out of a burning convoy, risking everything and losing everything in the process. Before they parted ways, there had been a promise left hanging between them.
“If you ever call, I come.”
He opened his eyes again.
“I remember.”
The boy reached into his torn pocket and carefully unfolded a creased photograph. It showed Scott—thinner now, aged by time—holding up a newspaper dated just last week.
On the back, a shaky line of handwriting read:
They took my son to force me to sign.
Color drained from the man’s face.
“Who took you?”
The boy’s gaze shifted past him, toward the far side of the ballroom.
There, a woman in a black evening gown stood frozen, her face completely pale.
She was his business partner.
The same woman who had organized the charity gala.
The same woman who had convinced him Scott was already dead before he ever had the chance to testify.
The boy’s voice trembled.
“She said if Dad didn’t give her the files, I’d disappear too.”
Slowly, the man straightened, positioning himself protectively in front of the boy.
His tone turned ice-cold.
“Lock the exits.”
The woman forced a thin smile. “What is this?”
He raised the photograph for everyone to see.
“This is the son of the man you buried alive.”
Whispers exploded across the ballroom like breaking glass.
The boy held the silver watch tightly against his chest.
“Can you find my dad?” he asked.
The man dropped to one knee again, gripping the boy’s shoulders firmly.
His eyes glistened.
“I failed him once by believing he was gone,” he said. “I won’t fail him again.”
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A faint, familiar voice came through.
“You kept the watch.”
The man’s expression collapsed.
“Scott?”
The boy broke into tears.
The voice on the line trembled.
“Is my son safe?”
The man looked down at the boy shaking in front of him and pulled him close.
“Yes,” he whispered. “And this time, so are you.”
