3

ALFRED'S POV.

After my therapy session, I hurried back to the house. It was already 10 p.m., and I knew I was late. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened during the session, but I had to push those thoughts aside for now.

The moment I opened the door, I saw my father sitting in his favorite chair, waiting for me. His face was calm, but I could sense the anticipation in his posture.

"Are you ready, son? I thought you weren’t coming with me!" my father said, raising an eyebrow. His tone was teasing, but I could tell he was serious underneath it.

"Not coming?" I repeated, almost out of breath. Couldn’t he see I had been running to get here? I wiped the sweat off my forehead. The therapy session had gone on for much longer than I expected. If I hadn’t already paid for it last week, I wouldn’t have bothered going.

"I told you, Father! I’m going with you as your bodyguard. What if you really win this game? Someone might try to steal the money from you! You’re getting older now, and you can’t exactly punch everyone who tries to mess with you," I said, attempting a sheepish grin to lighten the mood.

My father smirked, letting out a loud laugh as he raised his fist. "What a joke! All these years, and you haven’t figured out yet that I have a steel fist? Don’t forget, I used to be an international boxer!" His voice was full of pride, and his laughter echoed through the house.

I blinked in surprise, my jaw dropping as I rubbed my chin. "All these hidden secrets are coming out now, after 20 years of my life! Who even are you guys?" I teased, still trying to process that my father had been a boxer.

"Son, I’ve always tried to act like a normal father. I wasn’t hiding anything from you," he said, stepping closer and tapping me lightly on the back.

I smiled warmly at him and said, "I’m really proud to have a father like you. Honestly, I can’t wait to see you in action at the gambling competition. Whether you win or lose, I’ll still be proud of you." I hugged him tightly, feeling a surge of affection and admiration.

"Don’t praise me just yet, son," he said with a wink. "Save that for when I actually win. Now go change your clothes. You need to wear a formal, elegant suit. This isn’t just a normal poker game. Businessmen and the richest people from all over the world will be there. Most of them will be watching as an audience."

My eyes widened in amazement. "Really? You mean it’s like the master competition of poker? A worldwide event? Will it be live on TV and social media?" I asked, my excitement spilling out.

"No, not exactly," my father said, walking a few steps away and rubbing his hands together.

A wave of disappointment washed over me, and I let out a sigh. "Oh, I thought you told me it was the highest-level table ever," I mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"It is," he said, turning back to me. "But it’s even bigger than those worldwide competitions. This is an underground game, hidden from the public eye but not a secret among the elite. The champions from those televised competitions will be sitting in the back, watching us and learning. We are the chosen ones for this game. It’s illegal, yes, but it’s a league of its own. Our names will be known, but only to the most important people in the world."

His words sent a shiver down my spine. I was more excited now, but a deep sense of fear was beginning to creep in. Why was I trembling? Why was my chest tightening with worry?

"I still don’t fully understand," I admitted, scratching my head. "But okay, I’ll change my clothes and join you in a minute. But, Dad... is it safe? You said it’s illegal." My voice wavered as I asked, my eyes widening in concern.

"It’s not safe," he said matter-of-factly, pointing a finger at me. "So stay away from me as much as you can, especially if I win. The legend will be there." His tone was serious, and his warning sent another chill through me.

"The legend? Who is the legend? And if it’s not safe, why are you still doing this?" I stammered, my curiosity mixing with fear. "Maybe I should call my bad-boy friends to come with us—armed with guns! We need protection!"

My father shook his head, chuckling softly. "Guns? No one is allowed to bring firearms to this game. And even if they tried, your bad-boy friends wouldn’t stand a chance. The security guards there would crush them and swallow their bullets. Calm down, son. Just remember what I said—if I win, don’t come near me. If I don’t make it out safely, run. Don’t look back." He laughed hysterically, but his eyes flickered with something more serious as he gazed at me.

"What? You’re scaring me, Dad! Please don’t go!" I said, gulping and trying to stop him from leaving.

"Are you coming with me or not?" he asked, turning his head away from me. I could sense his inner conflict. He wanted me to go with him, but at the same time, he wanted me to stay behind where it was safe.

"Okay," I said firmly, my voice filled with determination. "I’ll come with you. Please wait for me." Without thinking twice, I ran to my room. He was the man who gave me life, and if it came to it, I would give my life for him.

I opened my closet and grabbed my best suit. I had been saving it for a special day, and while I wasn’t sure if today was special or dangerous, I knew it would be unforgettable. My hands shook as I got ready, my mind racing with thoughts of what might happen. If anyone tried to hurt my father, I’d step in and take the hit for him. If he was going to die, I’d make sure I went before him. I just prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

A few minutes later, I rushed downstairs. My father was still waiting for me, and my mother was by his side, crying and pleading with him not to go.

"Sorry, but I’ve already paid for this. I have to go. Please forgive me," my father said softly, leaning down to kiss her cheeks, her nose, and her forehead. His gestures were gentle, filled with love and regret.

I coughed awkwardly with a small laugh. "What a romantic moment. Sorry for interrupting," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Both of them turned to me with wide eyes. My father smiled and said, "Son, you look amazing."

"Okay, okay, don’t praise me too much. I got my good looks from both of you," I said shyly, winking.

"Yes, but you got the sexy body from your mother and the handsome face from me," my father teased, laughing. "Your silky blonde hair and those wide green eyes—you’re a perfect mix."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. "Let’s go," I said, nodding.

My father led the way to the cars. He insisted that we take separate vehicles, asking me to drive mine. I realized he wanted us to look like strangers, probably so I could escape if something went wrong. My heart ached at the thought, but I agreed.

Even if I wasn’t as strong as my father, even if I didn’t have his steel fists or confidence, I had something else: loyalty. I would never leave him behind, no matter what.