Chapter 5

Joseph's jaw dropped, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

His legs were shaking so hard he could barely stand. All that arrogance he'd been throwing around — gone in an instant. He was trembling like a leaf.

"You... you..."

His throat had gone dry. He couldn't get a single full sentence out.

Sean slowly pulled his fist back — not even a scratch on his knuckles. He looked down at Joseph with a cold smile twisting the corner of his mouth.

"Now. Can we talk like civilized people?"

The Bentley's hood was still letting off thin wisps of steam. The street was so quiet you could hear the engine ticking as it cooled.

Sean tucked both hands in his pockets and stared down at the pale, blubbering man in front of him.

"Who are you? You know where you are?" His voice was low, but it cut through the air like a wind blowing straight out of hell. Joseph felt a chill run down his spine.

Joseph swallowed. His eyes darted to the hood of the car — caved in nearly half a meter — then back to Sean's arms, which didn't even look that muscular.

He was terrified. But then he thought about who he was, and who was backing him up, and he forced that fear back down.

"I'm here to make a donation!" Joseph cranked up the volume, like he was trying to psych himself up. "I'm Joseph Davis, VP at Kimberly Properties! I came here today to support this orphanage! And you've got the nerve to smash my car? You have any idea how fast I could have this whole dump shut down?"

"A donation?"

The corner of Sean's mouth curled into a mocking smile.

Right then, the orphanage gate creaked open.

Susan came rushing out, looking anxious. When she saw the nearly totaled Bentley and the two men squaring off, the color drained from her face.

"Young man — Sean, what on earth happened here?" She quickly grabbed Sean's arm, then turned to Joseph with an apologetic smile. "Mr. Davis, you're finally here. This boy just got back, he doesn't know the way things work. Please don't take it personally."

The moment Joseph saw Susan, his expression shifted from fear to fury.

"Susan! Don't give me that!" He jabbed a finger in her face. "Where are the kids? My photographer and the press are already on their way up. Why isn't anyone out front? I told you to have the children lined up at the gate to meet me!"

Susan flinched, but kept her composure. "Mr. Davis, we agreed on one o'clock. The children were out here waiting from twelve-thirty all the way to one-thirty. It's a hundred degrees out. Adults can barely take that kind of heat, let alone a bunch of kids. Linda just passed out from heatstroke. I had to send the others inside for a nap. Can we please take this conversation inside?"

"Take it inside? Are you kidding me?"

Joseph erupted like someone had stepped on his tail. "You old bat — are you seriously blaming me for being late? I'm worth tens of millions. My time is worth thousands a minute. So I hit some traffic — big deal? They can stand in the sun for a while! So what?"

He worked himself up more and more, waving his hand toward the building and sneering.

"They're nobodies — kids nobody wanted and nobody's raising! Me showing up to donate is the luckiest thing that's ever happened to them. Can't stand in the sun for an hour without passing out? Quit being so dramatic. They're trash that nobody wanted, and they're acting like they're made of glass."

The air went still the moment those words landed.

Susan stood frozen, her face full of disbelief.

She raised a trembling finger at Joseph, her lips quivering. She had so much to say, but the words wouldn't come — just a face flushed red with rage.

"You... you..."

"What about me?" Joseph scoffed. "Was I wrong? They're just a bunch of nobody's kids."

"Shut your mouth!"

Susan let out a sharp, furious cry.

Sean stood quietly to the side, eyes half-lowered. In all his memory, Aunt Susan had always been gentle — the kind of woman who'd chat warmly with vendors at the market. He had never seen her this angry, shaking from head to toe.

"Joseph, if you don't want to do charity, fine. Take your money and get out of Angel's Hope." Susan's fists were clenched tight, tears pressing against the edges of her eyes — but she refused to let them fall. "But you do not get to insult a single child here. They are not nobodies. They are my heart and soul."

Susan had never had children of her own.

To her, every child who'd been left behind in this place was hers — as real as blood, won through every ounce of herself she'd poured into this work.

She could take people looking down on her. But she would never stand by while someone used cruel words to hurt children who'd already been hurt more than enough.

"Ha! Hahahaha!"

Joseph threw his head back and laughed like he'd just heard the funniest joke of his life.

"Old woman, you really think you're some kind of saint?" He spat on the ground, his face full of contempt. "You think I actually care whether any of these brats live or die? I'm doing this for the PR, for the press coverage. Enough talk — go get those kids out here so we can take some photos. I'll leave the check and be on my way. Every second I spend in this dump makes my skin crawl."

So that was the game he was playing. He wasn't there out of any kind of goodwill.

Kimberly Properties was going after a major government contract, and the company that had the say on whether they'd get it was Valentino Group — the biggest name in New York. Joseph had done his homework and found out that Valentino Group's president, Sofia Valentino, had a deep personal connection to this orphanage and had been funding it regularly and generously.

So his plan was to stage a little charity photo op — pictures of himself handing over a check, sharing warm moments with the kids — and use that to win Sofia over and land the deal, which was worth hundreds of millions.

What he hadn't counted on was these "nobodies" refusing to cooperate.

"Listen here, old woman. I'm warning you, you'd better—"

Joseph was mid-rant when his voice cut off completely.

Without any warning, a wave of cold terror shot up his spine and straight to the top of his skull.

It was the middle of summer, but he suddenly felt like he'd been dropped into an arctic ice hole. Every hair on his body stood on end.

He turned his head instinctively toward Sean.

The young man who'd been silent this whole time had moved — without Joseph even noticing — and was now standing right in front of him.

Sean stood with the light behind him, half-swallowed by shadow. His dark eyes held no anger, no warmth — just a hollow, dead stillness.

Before Joseph could make a sound, he saw a hand coming at his face, growing larger by the fraction of a second.

Crack.

A slap so sharp it rang down the entire street.

Sean had held back. If he hadn't, a hit at his full strength would've driven Joseph's head straight into his chest cavity.

Even so, Joseph's 280-pound body spun like a top — a full 360 degrees in the air — before slamming down hard onto the scorching concrete.

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