A Young Boy's Dream

“W-W-Where…?”

Mia found herself on a king-sized bed laid with silk sheets and satin pillows. Crystal chandeliers hung from an intricately carved ceiling, and velvet drapes pooled onto polished marble floors. Opulence stretched around the vast room, and for a heartbeat, she wondered if she’d slipped into someone's glittering dream.

Then, memories flashed through her head—the lights, the cameras, Keith, Lucas, Wes.

‘Ah, that was…yesterday.’ The panic from waking up in an unfamiliar place eased, replaced by enlightened awe and a lingering tension. ‘It’s alright. I’m safe now, but… Where is Wes?’

A soft knock made her jump and turn to the door. A maid entered with a tray of toiletries and a new dress.

“Good morning, miss,” she greeted with a polite bow. “By Young Master Wes's order, we are to attend to you during your stay. Shall we get you ready for breakfast?”

Mia reeled, nonplussed by the maid's meticulous care that transformed her into a picture of understated elegance.

Walking out of the room and into the corridor, she felt as if she’d stepped into another world—huge windows polished to a mirror sheen, walls adorned with rich tapestries, plush carpets patterned with gold. From the library to the lounge, each room they passed was more lavish than the last. In the dining hall, a large table lay at the center, with gleaming silverware that seemed almost ceremonial.

At the head sat a man with similar features to Wes—just taller, older, and more impeccably dressed, with a keen gaze that was both assessing and welcoming. Even without asking, she knew at once they were related. Though unexpected, his presence wasn't austere or imposing like she imagined.

“Good morning, Mia.”

“G-Good morning…”

“Come. Have a seat.”

“Ah, yes. T-Thank you.” Mia sat nervously, only to balk at the extravagant breakfast—freshly baked pastries, imported fruits, and steaming dishes that filled the room with a rich, savory aroma. ‘Have I somehow walked into a five-star restaurant?’

“How are you feeling? After yesterday’s… events?”

She stiffened, choosing her words carefully. “Um, I… I-I’m okay now, I think. T-Thanks to Wes.”

“Pardon me. I haven’t introduced myself, have I?” He smiled affably, as though sensing her unease and trying to alleviate it. “I’m Wes’s father. Call me Romulus.”

“N-Nice to meet you, sir. My n-name is Mia, and I’m, uh…”

“My son's special someone, and the answer he found,” he said all of a sudden, much to her surprise and confusion. “You see, he’s one they’d call a genius, but… Well, there’s this question he couldn't solve.”

'Wes's father... I feel he knows him better than anyone,' she mused, keeping quiet so he would continue.

“His life has been such a contradiction. To the world, he’s the quintessential Ashthorne—capable, charismatic, calculating. His rigorous upbringing has made that possible.” He sighed wistfully and leaned back in his chair, the sunlight catching the sharp angles of his face. “But in reality, he’s….adventurous, idealistic, whimsical—a boy who believes in those fairytales his mother used to read him in bed.”

Mia leaned in, fascinated as she imagined a young Wes reading storybooks. The more she heard, the more she realized how he came to be the person he was now. To most people, he seemed straight out of a fantasy, but he himself longed to find someone like that.

“Then, as he grew older, he started wearing disguises and sneaking around, thinking he’s some frog prince on a hopeless quest for a true love’s kiss.”

She choked. “Y-Y-You knew, sir…?”

He grinned. “I’m his father, after all.”

Somehow, that made her miss her own. Wes was fortunate he had his family, and she was glad he did. Yet still, it seemed he found his life lacking.

“By putting on layers upon layers of facade, he could protect himself, but all these talks of a future partner made him desperate. He claimed he wanted to fall in love, yet from how I see it, love was what he feared most."

And so, he hid his identity—hoping, wishing, praying his happily-ever-after did exist.

Mia looked down, her mind racing from the revelations. Romulus studied her, as if weighing her reaction.

Even now, she wanted nothing more than to stand beside Wes. But after what happened with Lucas, fitting in his world became the lesser concern. Somehow, she felt Romulus told her this because he knew.

“‘Will that happen to me someday, too?’ You’re the answer to that question he kept asking his mother before. I'm glad that he doesn't stop believing, that he's able to find it,” he continued, expression softened by gratitude but also heavy with worry. “However, life is no fiction. Wes treats you as his tether to both. It's not going to be easy, Mia.”

‘It isn’t easy already… Even so, I…’

Mia only nodded, letting the conversation hang between them. Romulus expected no response, just understanding.

In contrast to the tension in the dining hall, outside, the mansion’s gardens glimmered in the morning light—stately, serene, yet full of unseen depths, much like the Ashthorne family.

---

The car rolled through the iron gates, gravel crunching beneath the tires.

Wes stepped out from the backseat, and at the sight of the looming mansion, Lucas appeared in his mind. He remembered the concrete cell, dim lights, and metal chains, none of which he thought were enough to shackle him.

Lucas had been locked away, stripped of all possessions and awaiting trial. Keith, Gwen, and Lucy were interrogated with other people who worked under the man now charged with illicit operations, coercive exploitation, and other crimes detailed in a heap of case files. Mia would not appear in court, nor would her name on any records soon to be made public.

Anonymity was better than unwarranted attention for Mia, but there's another reason as to why he decided so. Memories of Lucas’s words resurfaced, threading through his thoughts unbidden.

"There will always be someone to take my place, and they will come in time. You could have remained the king of the castle, but you opened your gates. Now, your most precious treasure lies exposed—naive, vulnerable, ripe for the taking.”

How easy it would be to make sure Lucas never got to that courtroom.

“There has to be a way,” Wes muttered through gritted teeth, the words rusty on his tongue. “One way to make sure he never hurts her or anyone again.”

“That’s not your call.” Seth’s voice came from behind him, steady as ever. “Multiple counts and federal charges stacked so high he won’t see daylight again—the law can handle it.”

“What if he still has a trick up his sleeve? You saw the room, the cameras.” What Lucas had attempted to do with Mia sickened Wes. “He could've recorded it live, but it's either he assumed I’d be able to track him down if he did, or he planned to use it to blackmail me.”

“They collected the evidence, but…”

“I don't care how, Seth.”

“...I see. We'll do it after all, sir?”

“Yes. Burn that wretched place down.”

They went inside the mansion.

Along the way, movement caught his eye. Beyond the stone path in the garden, Mia sat prettily among the flowerbeds, her hair flowing in the spring breeze as she reached for a cluster of blooms. Seeing this, the tightness inside him loosened.

She smiled to herself as she worked, safe and peaceful—untouched by the darkness.

Everything else faded from his mind, and before he knew it, he was walking towards her with lighter steps. When she saw him, her smile widened. All traces of his murderous intent dissolved right then, like shadows in the first light of dawn.

“Mia, you’re here.” He kneeled before her and reached out a hand to hold her face. “I'm glad you're alright.”

“Because of you, I am.” She leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a second. “Thank you, Wes.”

He frowned. “No, I don't deserve it. I couldn't take care of you well enough.”

“This isn't your fault. Please don't blame yourself.”

“But it is. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't-”

“You did nothing wrong. I'll get mad if you continue saying that,” she warned.

Wes stared, a bit taken aback. Her pouty expression reminded him of when he kept insisting on paying for her. That's a while ago—during their makeover project. He felt as endeared as that time with how she's trying so hard to appear threatening.

“Don’t… Don't laugh!” she exclaimed like she did before, and he chuckled, having not even realized he was making such a face. “A-Anyway, where have you been? Have you been working? You…look fatigued. Have you slept or eaten yet?”

‘Always thinking about others, never about yourself.’ He smiled wryly, stroking her cheek with his thumb. 'You must've been scared, and yet… I know you don't need anyone to fight your battles for you, but just this once, please…’

Wes made up his mind.