𝓑𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷

Chapter-31

*•.¸♡ YEARS AGO, AT CITY HOSPITAL ♡¸.•*

A man sat outside the operating room, his nerves fraying with every muffled cry and scream he could hear from inside. His wife was in labor, and each sound filled him with a strange mixture of fear and excitement. 

Jonathan King, resting his head against the back of the chair, tapped his foot anxiously on the cold, sterile floor. 

Beside him stood Malcolm, his trusted right-hand man and advisor—a loyal friend who remained by his side through every storm. The two men were enveloped in tense silence, the air thick with anticipation.

Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by a final, piercing cry from his wife, followed by the sharp wail of a newborn. 

Jonathan's eyes snapped open, wide with hope and impatience, fixed on the door to the operating room. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited, every second feeling like an eternity.

At last, the door swung open, and a doctor emerged, cradling a tiny life wrapped snugly in white cloth. Jonathan's heart leaped at the sight, his face lighting up with a rare smile.

"Congratulations, Mr. King. It's a boy," the doctor said softly, a warm smile tugging at his lips as he carefully handed the baby to Jonathan. 

For a moment, Jonathan's world seemed perfect as he gazed down at his son, his arms tightening protectively around the small bundle. The weight of his legacy now rested in his hands.

But the moment shattered as the doctor's expression shifted. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice heavy with regret. "We couldn't save your wife." Jonathan's smile faltered, his mind struggling to grasp the words.

The joy of holding his newborn son collided with the cold, brutal news. The doctor quietly excused himself, leaving Jonathan standing frozen in place, the echoes of those words ringing in his ears.

"Boss..." Malcolm's voice broke the silence as he placed a hand on Jonathan's shoulder. 

But Jonathan barely acknowledged him. His gaze had already returned to his son, the tiny movement of the baby stirring a soft smile on his lips once more.

"Arrange her funeral," Jonathan said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. "I have my son to look after."

There was no trace of grief in his tone, no hesitation in his command. His wife's death meant little compared to the new life he held. 

The boy in his arms was all that mattered now—his heir, his flesh and blood, the one who would inherit his empire and carry on the King's name.

Jonathan King was a powerful name in the business world. Power, wealth, fame, everything he had. Even a beautiful wife he got from a business deal.

He had his hands in every business. Just name it and he would be the boss of it. After all the power and respect he earned over years of hard work, this was the only thing Jonathan King had ever truly wanted—a powerful successor to rule everything he had built.

The one made of his blood, the one that could handle this wealth and power as powerfully as he did all these years, and he got that as well.

His wife had been a means to an end, a mere player in a business deal that had given him what he desired most. And now, with his son in his arms, nothing else mattered.

Diego King, the heir to his father's vast fortune and cold ambition, had arrived.

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"Ready to begin your training, Diego?" Jonathan's voice boomed in the vast field of the King's estate as Jonathan stood there. He looked down in front of the 8-year-old kid with similar features, leaving out only his eyes, which were different from his.