I don't understand why this chapter was taken down considering that I posted it before the DDOS attack. But anyways... I'll update tomorrow once more before I put this story on hold in order to complete my other story first. Thank you for sticking by me despite my lack of update on this one. I'll understand deeply if you guys unsuscribe. ^^ Thank you guys!

  ---   The silence droned on icily inside of the Byun mansion. The moment his mother opened her thin lips and spoke, Baekhyun could sense a shift in the air; the room had grown uncomfortably cold and mild. All he heard afterwards were the rough sounds of the newspaper his father was making as he folded it into fours and threw it across the table. It slid down halfway in a smooth motion and then skidded to an abrupt stop near the edge of the table before it could fly off and scatter on the floor.   Baekhyun felt a chill run down his slim body only once before it froze entirely. The spoon he had held had crashed into the bowl of soup, sending the white liquid contents to splash onto the new and freshly washed golden silk table cloth. Vice President Byun's face twisted into a disapproving grimace; the muscles in her lips contracted deeply as she cocked her head to the side. The silk table cloth was specifically customized to her liking and was recently imported from Guangzhou, China.    "Byun Baekhyun, what's the matter with you? Have you forgotten about your eating etiquette as well? Butler Lee! Get in here and clean this mess!" She snapped her fingers in an impatient manner.    Immediately, Butler Lee reappeared with a cleaning cloth in his hand. Carefully as to not disturb nor touch Baekhyun during his state of shock, he wiped away the splattered liquid and retrieved Baekhyun's bowl and replaced it with a new steaming one. Baekhyun took the time to swallow hard and recomposed himself. His body temperature had lowered as if it had been frost bitten and his throat felt tight. He had no reason to lie since he had been caught, but what exactly could he say? Baekhyun mentally scolded himself for being so irrational and not thoroughly thinking through with the plan. Of course being the son of the richest folks in town made him a public figure as well, thus, being noticed and talked about was inevitable. His mind wasn't prepared to answer the questions but his body language spoke otherwise. President Byun noticed it instantly. He casually crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't planning on withholding a press conference with Baekhyun. He had his hat on already, and he wanted the conversation straight to the point.   "On what grounds of permission were you given to be out and about at that clip joint last night, especially with those poor saps who have less money than a mime worker?" He inquired. His eyes sunken into deep slits and his mouth formed a disapproving frown. "Because I don't remember giving you any permission to be out at all."   The lump of discomfort lodged itself in Baekhyun's throat, making it absolutely impossible to speak. The room felt oddly smaller and more compacted together. He cleared his throat once, twice, and even a third time. It lingered in his throat, making his voice come out thick and husky when he spoke. "I'm 18 and I believe I have the right to do as I please, President Byun."    There was a moment of shocked silence. The winds outside grew silent, the cooks in the kitchen stopped clamoring about, and the footsteps from the Maids halted. Anger, shock and disbelief were written on both his parents faces. Their once frowning faces were slowly transcended into a form of apparent disbelief by the words Baekhyun had spoken. Even he was surprised himself to hear his own words coming out of his mouth in such a vile manner. In the years of living here, he has yet to speak a single sentence towards his parents as boldly as this. All he knew how to say to them was, "Yes, sir." and "No, Ma'am." Regret flushed his system and before he knew it, he had his head hung low, avoiding any desire to look up in fear that an argument would arise.    Someone took in a sharp inhale before letting it go. "Baekhyun," Vice President Byun called. When he didn't look up, she called his name again, firmer, sterner. Upon hearing it, his head slowly lifted up and he locked eyes with his Mother. She gave him a look that disheartened his soul. It shook him in so many ways that out of instinct, he lowered his head once more. Oh god, he thought to himself. Any moment now, he would receive his punishment. He could feel the dark rainclouds brooding over his father's head as he formulated a thousand ways to torture him.    The tension in the air ignited with invisible sparks. Prepare for it, Baekhyun told himself.   "We're not mad that you snuck out the house." She finally declared after a seconds thought. Baekhyun who didn't realize his eyes were closed, snapped them wide open.   Is this a dream? Baekhyun thought in his head. Had he heard wrong? Did his heartless Mother just informed him that she and President Byun were not upset with the fact that he had disobeyed orders and snuck out into town? He timidly looked up and met eyes with his Mother's. They were pitch black, and empty; hollow almost. There was no affection in them as she gazed back at Baekhyun. She sat up in her seat and glimpsed over at President Byun once, before speaking again. "Yes, you are 18. But you're wrong to believe that you have the right to do as you please. We didn't escape under the Japanese rule to come to a life here for freewill. We came here to construct a life here and dictate a better way of living. There is no such thing as freewill, especially after what we've been through. Baekhyun," she narrowed her eyes sternly. "Don't you ever do this again. We had established a very well known and popular reputation in this town. Do not tarnish it with your recklessness, Baekhyun. You're 18, so act like it. And remember, you are nothing like the other boys your age, so please, quit thinking so."   Baekhyun's mouth went slightly ajar. He clamped it shut immediately before his mother saw it and scolded him for his poor manners.    "Don't forget who we are in this town, kid." President Byun warned. His eyes were so cold that Baekhyun looked into them for only a millisecond before dropping his gaze. President Byun thumped his fist onto the table and it made a loud bang, making Vice President Byun to jump in surprise. "It only takes a snap of a finger for us to get information on you. Unlike other foolish parents out there who fall for their children's deception, we won't be one of them. You hear me? If there is a next time, we won't let it slip this easily."    "Yes, sir." Baekhyun gravely nodded. President Byun rolled his eyes when Baekhyun didn't lift up his head. "Figures," he mumbled to himself. He snapped his fingers, not calling out for Butler Lee, but for Baekhyun's attention. "On a side note, I have something important to talk to you about. It's not about the winery, so you can calm down already."   Baekhyun looked up with slightly interest, his eyes locking momentarily with his father's. On the other side of the table, Vice President Byun picked up her glass of orange juice and sipped it. Behind her emotionless cold mask hid a glint of pride that twinkled in the centre of her downcast eyes.    ---   A strange feeling burrowed itself in the middle of your stomach as you and Kris followed your father into his office. You watched as he walked around his desk and plunk down on his arm chair. He smoothed his hands over his face, wiping away the tiredness and dirt that lingered from his sleep last night with one of the younger women he had met at Windy Harlem. The two of them had shared a steamy night in one of the hotels, and he could have sworn she was higher than any other broad in town. She was a bit of a hassle to leave in the morning, begging almost for one more hit and a last minute rendezvous. Of course given the opportunity, how could he refuse? He caved in and allowed him an hour to spare before returning home. He had other business and priorities to deal with, and with a younger girl was not in his plans. At least not until he got what he needed sorted out.   His eyes were narrowed together as he stared intently between you and Kris; it the type of look that he gave when he was trying to figure out something between you two. Both your faces were pale with fear, as if a dirty deed had been done, or the two of you were both guilty for something he did not permit. Whatever the case, he could sense it and he could sense the heat boiling up inside of him. However, there was innocence in your eyes which made him question whether or not he had the right to be suspicious. Kris, after all, wasn’t what girls would view as their Prince Charming. He worked for the Mafia, and killed mercilessly. Who would ever want a person like that?    Big Boss pulled open a compartment, and reached for his cigar. He enjoyed taking his time when he spoke to you and Kris. He enjoyed seeing the two in your fright of nervousness as you watched him prepare his cigar. Slowly, he grabbed his sharp blade from his desk and twirled it skilfully in the air. From the corner of his eyes, he watched you tremble slightly and he couldn't help but remark how distant the two of you have grown. You weren't his little girl anymore, and he wasn't your superhero Daddy anymore. It disheartened him slightly though he would never care to admit such tedious emotions. He held the cigar in his mouth and drew in a sharp inhale, tasting the bitter scent linger on his tongue for awhile before he let it go and the smoke surrounded the room, blurring his vision of you both temporarily.   "Daddy," he finally heard you say through the smoke. You waved the smoke away hastily in an impatient manner before crossing your arms over your chest. "What is it that you need to tell me?"   Big Boss crossed his legs leisurely and tapped the cigar onto his ashtray. His eyes were soft and calm like the gentle calling of the currents in the ocean. He tilted his head slightly and examined you and Kris once more. Your face was etched with lines of annoyance, confusion and impatience. Kris, as always, had that empty look on his stone cold face. When his face wasn't empty, he had a scowl. When he wasn't scowling, he was killing someone. Figures Kris would remain the same after seven months. He lacked incompetence for the emotions he denied of feeling. With one last draw, Big Boss spoke. "Rose, how is Windy Harlem treating you? Are you enjoying it so far?" His voice sounded distant for some reason, but maybe it was just you.   You responded almost automatica