Caring Father

A knock came from the door. 

“Come in,” Aria said.

Samuel entered her room. She was stretched out on her bed, laptop open, a cartoon playing softly.

“Did I come in at the wrong time, Aria?” Samuel asked.

“No, Daddy. I was watching a cartoon,” she replied.

“Aren’t you a little too old for cartoons?” he said, amused.

“I heard about it the other day and got curious. It’s called The Adventures of Johnny Boy.”

Samuel raised a brow. “And? How is it?”

“It’s good. I like it.”

He walked closer and kissed the top of her head. “I spoke to your sister before coming here,” Samuel said calmly. 

“She told me how upset you were about that boy—Ryo. Are you feeling better now?” He added.

“I’m fine, Daddy.” Aria said.

“Do you want me to buy his company?” Samuel asked casually. “Or run him out of business? You know I don’t like seeing my little girl sad.”

“He’s not worth it,” she replied firmly. “You don’t need to do anything.”

Samuel smiled. “You’re Daddy’s chocolate factory, you know that?” 

He crossed his arms, then shifted the topic. “Anyway… how is Mercer? Is he good to you? Does he treat you well?”

“He’s great,” Aria said without hesitation. “If not for him, I wouldn’t be alive right now. Did you know he’s a boxer too?”

“Yes,” Samuel replied. “I read his file before hiring him.”

“Why don’t you spar with him a little?” Aria said brightly. “You were a boxing champion once. Maybe you can teach him a few things. Give him your blessing.”

Samuel laughed as he rolled up his sleeves. “He’s past the learning age. But I’ll warm up with him. Let’s see what he’s got.”

He walked outside with Aria close behind him. He found and walked towards John. “Mr. Mercer,” Samuel called, “I find myself with some free time. Care for a little boxing spar?”

John blinked, confused. “Uh… sure, sir.”

He glanced at Aria. She was grinning far too widely.

*****

At the dojo, they put on their boxing gear and stepped onto the mat.

“What did you tell him?” John whispered.

“I asked him to teach you a few things,” Aria replied, “and give you his blessing.”

“His what?”

“Let’s begin, Mr. Mercer,” Samuel said calmly. “I’m ready.”

“Go, smartass,” Aria added, amused.

John circled in slowly. “You can call me John, sir.”

He threw a light jab. Samuel blocked it effortlessly and countered. John slipped the punch, his footwork smooth and controlled.

“You’re solid with the basics,” Samuel said. “Who taught you?”

“My father,” John replied. “He taught me and my brother wrestling and boxing. You’re skilled too, sir. Were you a boxer?”

“Two-time heavyweight champion,” Samuel answered. “That’s how I earned the money to start my enterprise.”

Samuel suddenly fired a sharp right hook, followed by a left hook to the body. John blocked the headshot but felt the impact of the body blow.

Holy… that power mixed with those stone fists, and sharp technique. Of course he was a champion.

“You built the enterprise yourself?” John asked, pressing forward and forcing Samuel back.

“My late brother handled management,” Samuel said. “I couldn’t do both while I was still boxing.”

Aria watched silently, eyes following every movement.

John unleashed a quick combination to the body. When Samuel threw a right jab, John switched stances and snapped a left uppercut into the opening—catching Samuel clean. He stumbled back.

Samuel raised a hand. “That’s enough. You got me.”

Aria hurried over with towels and water.

Samuel smirked. “You fight well—for a pretty boy. That said, if I were younger and my reflexes still sharp, I’d have beaten you half dead. Or half as pretty as you are now.”

John chuckled awkwardly.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Daddy,” Aria said.

“Hm,” Samuel replied.

“You did great, sir,” John said, rubbing the back of his neck. “The younger you would’ve beaten me easily.”

Aria smiled and nodded in approval.

*****

After removing their gear, John approached him. “May I ask you something, sir? It’s about your daughters.”

Samuel glanced at Aria. “Aria, tell the maids to prepare the meal sooner. Sparring has made me hungry.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she replied, leaving.

Samuel turned back to John. “How is your investigation going? Any leads on who’s behind all this?”

“I’m still putting the pieces together,” John said. “But something’s been bothering me. Why did you treat Rina differently than Aria? You were always there for Aria—but not Rina. At least not the same way.”

Samuel lowered his gaze. After a moment of silence, he smiled faintly. “You weren’t there to see what I did,” he said quietly. “Or how I did it for her. Everything I did for my children was based on my own judgment… and emotions.”

He placed a firm hand on John’s shoulder. “Know this—I never neglected my own. One day, you’ll understand.”

Samuel walked toward the door. “I leave early tomorrow morning. Have a car ready for me.”

“I will, sir,” John replied.

At dinner, as Samuel laughed and spoke with both of his daughters, John found himself thinking about what Aria and Samuel had said to him earlier.

Was it favoritism? Or something else entirely? Either way, I don’t see why Aria would be afraid of him. He seems like a caring father…

Is Aria lying to me—or is he just acting?

*****

“Are you sure you won’t stay a few more days, Daddy?” Aria asked, hugging him.

The maids stood in a neat line behind them—Al among them—while Rina remained apart, standing with the staff, watching in silence.

“I have a mountain of work waiting for me,” Samuel replied. “Billions of cash mean billions of problems.”

He smiled, then kissed her on the forehead. “Take care, sweetheart.”

“You too, Rina. Take care.” He took a few steps towards the door, then paused and turned back to her. “If you need anything, just call me.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Rina said.

John approached from outside. “The driver’s ready, sir. Are you heading straight to the airport, or—”

“I’ll tell him where to go,” Samuel cut in calmly. “Don’t concern yourself with it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take care of them, John.”

“I will, sir.”

Samuel got into the car and it drove off. Aria and Rina waved as it disappeared down the mansion's road.

John lit a cigarette as he watched the car disappear.

He didn’t say where he was going. Why hide it if you’re going to the airport? Where did he go that he didn’t want us to know about?

*****

Hours later, John heard a sharp knock on his door—urgent, insistent. He hurried over and opened it. Rina stood there, slightly out of breath.

“What is it?” John asked.

She looked up at him, eyes tense. “Ryo’s coming here.”