AS August slowly opened his eyes, a room engulfed in suffocating darkness greeted him. A chilling shiver ran down his spine as he realized he was seated on a cold, steel chair. 

The moment he attempted to move his hands, excruciating pain coursed through his body. His hands were tightly bound behind him.

The rope strangling his hands was mercilessly tight to the point that he couldn’t feel his fingers even if he moved them.

Surveying his surroundings, August noticed that the only light in the room came through a small window at the top of the wall. 

The place looked like an abandoned building, leaving him perplexed as to why he had become the target of this kidnapping.

“No one but Bruce could be behind this,” August muttered to himself. “That despicable bastard,”

August gritted his teeth. His gaze fixated on the partially open door not too far away, his eyes widening in astonishment as an old man wielding a cane entered the room. 

He casually kept one hand in his pocket, trailed closely by a horde of suit-clad bodyguards.

"Are you referring to me as a bastard, little man?" the old man jeered, grinning.

A bodyguard placed a steel chair in front of August, while Charles, the man he now identified, settled himself comfortably upon it, his gaze unwavering. 

Overwhelmed by a mix of fear and confusion, August mustered the courage to speak, his voice trembling, "S-Sir Charles?"

A wicked smile danced across Charles' face as he replied, "How have you been, August?"

Charles tilted his head to catch a glimpse of August's tied hands, and a grimace of concern showed on his face. 

"I suppose my people went overboard," he muttered, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. "Is your hand alright?"

"Was it you who brought me here?" August's voice trembled with a mix of fear and accusation.

August chose not to entertain Charles' polite greetings and inquiries, aware that his apparent kindness was nothing but a facade. No man in his sane mind would kidnap a man like him. 

He didn’t even know why he needed to experience horrible things when he had been trying his best to survive.

"Not directly, but I did instruct my people to bring you here," Charles admitted, leaning back in the chair and absentmindedly stroking his chin. "So, I suppose the answer is yes."

August's dwindling patience plummeted even further as he witnessed Charles' brazen response. There was no trace of remorse in his voice; instead, he looked like he was enjoying the scene.

"With all due respect, sir, may I inquire as to what you want from me? Why did you find me?" August's fists clenched tightly, his frustration mounting.

Charles didn't respond. Instead, he grinned sheepishly, his laughter echoing throughout the room. Little did anyone know, Charles was delighted to see his son after all these years. 

However, August remained oblivious to this revelation, viewing Charles solely as an influential wealthy man with ulterior motives.

"Is it because of the rumors that circulated about me last year?" August asked, snapping Charles back to reality. 

"Rumors?" Charles crossed his legs, a sly smirk gracing his lips. "I couldn't care less about those.. We both know the truth, don't we?"

"W-What do you mean?" August stammered, confusion etching itself onto his face.

Charles's grin turned vicious as he raised his right hand. The woman standing behind him, donning a black hoodie and face mask, handed him a small envelope.

"Bruce Sandoval and Samantha Evergreen framed you," Charles casually declared, opening the envelope. "And I have evidence to back it up.”

Leaning forward, Charles moved his chair to allow August a view of the contents. 

As August's eyes fell upon the images, he forgot how to breathe, and his fists clenched involuntarily as he fought to contain his anger.

The first photo depicted Bruce and Samantha in a motel, but that wasn't all. The second image captured Bruce slapping Samantha, while the third showcased Bruce taking a picture of her afterward, with a sinister smile on his face, intending to use it against August.

"Samantha... How could you..." August's voice trembled, his grip on his fists growing tighter as his eyes narrowed. 

Each picture bore a date at the bottom right corner. The pictures had been taken discreetly during the time when Bruce and Samantha had a secret relationship.

 "This isn't the only evidence I have, but they had planned it all along," the old man explained, passing the pictures to the woman behind him. "Samantha planned your downfall from the very beginning. They executed their plans little by little so that you won’t notice it.”

Charles didn’t want his son to get hurt, but it was the pain that will make him stronger. He was certain about that.

"W-Why did they..." August's voice trailed off, his confusion palpable.

"Why, you ask?" Charles asked back, crossing his legs nonchalantly. "Because of your promotion."

August's brows furrowed, caught off guard by the revelation. Besides being bewildered by how Charles had come to know about his promotion, he couldn't fathom how that reason fueled Bruce's anger toward him.

"Bruce didn't want you stealing the spotlight, and he wanted Samantha ever since,” Charles explained, sensing the perplexity in his son's eyes. "It seemed like a perfect two-for-one plan for him—a win-win situation."

"Then why do you know all of this?" August asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Because I am Charles Remington. There's no more accurate answer than that," Charles responded.

"Right..." August's voice trailed off, a wave of realization crashing over him. 

With Charles's power and influence, he could accomplish anything, even delve into the depths of hidden truths effortlessly.

"I am a powerful businessman," Charles confirmed, solidifying August's thoughts. "I want you to understand that. Before seeking revenge, you must acquire a power same to mine."

August suddenly realized something. ‘He’s not harming me; he’s helping me,’ he thought as he made the decision to trust Charles.

But his hands were now getting numb.

"Can you untie me?" August asked, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Given the number of people surrounding us, do you believe I could escape?"

There were twenty of them. Even if August could defeat one, the remaining nineteen would beat him or at the very least, put him on a comatose.

“Even a woman beat me,” he added, a tinge of wounded pride seeping into his words.

"That's because she's not an ordinary woman. I had her, trained internationally" Charles clarified, aiming to alleviate August's self-doubt about his skills. 

“Untie him,” Charles commanded, glancing at the woman behind him.

Maxine swiftly removed her face mask and approached August, untying the rope on his hand. A grin showed on his lips as she witnessed the shock flicker in August's eyes upon seeing her face. 

Maxine immediately removed her face mask and went to August to untie the rope on his hand. She grinned when he saw how August was stunned when he saw her face.

"Y-You're..." August began, his voice trembling.

"It's been a long time, August.” After fulfilling her master's command, Maxine promptly returned to her position beside Charles.

‘She's the nurse who treated my knee at the hospital before!’ August exclaimed inwardly, a realization dawning upon him. 

The familiarity in her voice now made perfect sense.

"H-How did you..." August's words faltered, and his curiosity arises.

"Maxine Coleman is my right-hand woman and also my nurse," Charles replied casually, a smile playing on his lips.

August nodded and winced as he felt the pain in his hand. It was numb for far too long.

"I see," August muttered, lost in his thoughts. "Those pictures... Can you give them to me?" he requested, pointing towards the envelope held by Maxine.

‘They will prove useful when I exact my revenge,’ said August at the back of his mind.

"Ah, but do you know anything about negotiations, my child?" Charles' laughter reverberated through the room. "I don't do anything for free. You must offer something in return."

August raised a brow in response. It was the first time someone had wanted something from him, although he was certain he didn’t have anything to offer.

yet didn’t even strike a deal to have it. Despite August being away from Charles throughout his 

"I don't possess wealth, power, or anything of value to offer you, Mr. Remington," August honestly replied, his voice laced with sincerity. "But I plead for your mercy." 

August meant what he said. Aside from gaining pity, he also wanted to appreciate the kindness shown by the man before him. 

Charles could have commanded his men to beat him, yet he chose to engage in a conversation, treating him like any ordinary individual.

"All I ask is your help. I simply want to clear my name."

August's mind began formulating a well-crafted plan. If he revealed the truth supported by the pictures, they will be humiliated to the point they wouldn’t have the confidence to make a live stream on social media platforms anymore. 

‘That would be sufficient for my revenge,’ August pondered to himself.

“Too bad, child. Mercy is not in my vocabulary,” Charles uttered with a disapproving click of his tongue, ruining August’s hopes about executing his plan.

Rising from his seat, Charles approached August, narrowing the gap between them.

“What if I have a proposal for you, in exchange for giving me something valuable in between?” Charles told him, his voice dripping with intrigue. "Not money, power, or any material possession. Rather, I need your existence.”

August raised a brow, confused about what Charles wanted to say.

A sly smile curled upon Charles' lips as he proceeded to elaborate. "Inherit the Remington Corporation, Augustus Fordman."