What a relief.
Yu-jin smiled to himself as the memories came rushing back. He still couldn’t believe how fortune kept landing in his lap like this. Ever since his book had been published, it felt like everything was going right.
Unconsciously smiling, Yu-jin snapped out of his thoughts and turned to the monitor. The new manuscript was coming along smoothly. He had only shown the beginning, yet the publisher’s president had visibly lit up with excitement, practically begging to sign a contract on the spot. Caught up in the moment, Yu-jin ended up signing a deal for a second book as well. Afterward, a pleasant pressure settled in his chest. On top of that, the response to his first book was growing better by the day. It was thrilling and gratifying—yet at the same time, terrifying.
What if something suddenly goes wrong?
A chill ran down his spine. Uneasy, Yu-jin instinctively glanced behind him. The house was unnervingly silent. The prickling sensation down his back made him abruptly get up and head outside.
“Angie, Angie!”
Calling out his daughter’s name, he stepped out the door. The small figure standing not far off made him breathe a sigh of relief.
“Angie, what are you doing out here? It’s cold, let’s go back inside.”
He gently took her arm, ready to lead her back in, but Angela resisted, digging in her heels and pointing off to one side.
“Daddy, over there.”
Yu-jin tilted his head in confusion—and froze on the spot.
A dark gray sedan was approaching them.
Suddenly his heart pounded violently, and a dizzy spell swept over him as if all the blood in his body were draining away.
No way. It can’t be…
Winston’s face flashed across his mind, and without a second thought, Yu-jin scooped Angela into his arms. He tried to rush back inside, but it was too late. The car pulled up right in front of them in an instant and stopped.
His mind went blank. Frozen with Angela in his arms, he couldn’t move. The engine cut off, and then the driver’s side door opened. A tall, familiar man stepped into view, reflected in Yu-jin’s wide, shocked eyes.
…Ah…
His mouth fell open, but no sound came out. The man gave him a bright, beaming smile.
“Yu-jin, hello. Have you been well?”
“Mr. Grant.”
It was only after recognizing the man as the head of the publishing company that a near-sigh of relief escaped from Yu-jin’s lips. His tense shoulders dropped, and a smile finally returned to his face.
***
The mansion named Delights looked anything but delightful—it was as gloomy as could be. Madam Campbell faltered briefly at the funereal stillness that clung to the house. The main hall still held a Christmas tree, long past its season, and the lingering presence of it only deepened the ghostly mood.
“Kane, what is this? Why hasn’t it been taken down yet?”
At her irritable outburst, the butler responded with an awkward expression.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It was Mr. Campbell’s order…”
“Winston’s?”
When Madam Campbell asked again, clearly in disbelief, the butler nodded. A short, exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she scanned the surroundings and snapped in a sharp tone.
“All of this? He really told you to just leave this hideous mess like this?”
Despite her cold, displeased voice, the butler could only confirm once more with a meek nod. Outraged, Madam Campbell let out a sharp breath through her nose.
But this mansion—this enormous estate—now belonged to Winston. There wasn’t much she could do besides scold her son. Fully aware of her powerless position, Madam Campbell stormed up the stairs, her face tight with anger. There was no need to ask where she was going; her destination was obvious. Without slowing her pace, she reached the room at the far end of the hallway and pounded on the door.
She waited for a response, but only a heavy silence returned. Without hesitating further, she flung both doors open herself.
“Winston…”
She called out her beloved youngest son’s name, her mouth wide open—only to recoil in horror, instantly covering her nose and mouth with both hands. An overwhelming stench of alcohol, unlike anything she’d ever encountered in her life, made her dizzy.
Barely managing to keep her balance and avoid a graceless fall, she opened her eyes wide and surveyed the room.
Her precious son was there. Slumped carelessly on the sofa, surrounded by empty liquor bottles scattered across the floor.
Madam Campbell’s mind went blank from the shock. She had never imagined Winston—Winston, of all people—would be like this. All her other children had lost themselves to gambling, drugs, or men, each more hopeless than the last. But Winston—Winston had been different. Intelligent, upright, dignified, and on top of that, flawless in appearance. To her, he was nothing less than a divine blessing.
And now her one perfect son had come to ruin like this.
“Winston…”
Barely regaining her composure, she called his name again. The stench of alcohol churned her stomach, but she endured it with sheer, monumental willpower and stepped closer to him.
Extreme Alphas didn’t get drunk. They weren’t supposed to get addicted to drugs either. So how much had he consumed for Winston to be this far gone, utterly unconscious and unresponsive?
“Good heavens…”
Seeing him up close, she couldn’t suppress the mixed gasp of dismay and shock. Her son, who was always tidy and perfectly put together, looked unrecognizable. His hair, usually slicked back with precision, was a tangled, disheveled mess. His jaw was covered in an unkempt beard. His shirt was wrinkled, stained with spilled alcohol, and several buttons were undone. The reek of liquor coming off him was enough to give anyone a headache. He looked like a vagrant.
For a moment, Madam Campbell stared down at him in a daze. Then, with a surge of delayed fury, she grabbed Winston’s shoulders and began to shake him roughly.
“Wake up. I said, wake up!”
She shrieked, shaking him violently, but Winston didn’t stir. His eyes remained shut. Her rage boiled over further, and in a flash, her hand rose, about to slap him.
But it stopped, frozen midair. She couldn’t bring it down.
This was her son. The one she cherished and revered more than anything else in the world.
Even if he had brought disgrace upon himself… even if he had ended up like this…
She had never hesitated to slap even her own children—but Winston had always been the one exception. Even now, in a situation like this, Madam Campbell simply couldn’t bring herself to raise a hand against her beloved youngest son. In the end, she lowered her arm and hastily looked around the room. Her eyes landed on a half-filled glass of liquor.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed it—and then, just as ruthlessly, splashed the lukewarm alcohol straight into Winston’s face.
“…Ugh.”
Winston flinched violently, his brows furrowing deep as his large body jerked back. Watching him, Madam Campbell calmly set the empty glass down on the table and waited for him to come to.
“What the hell…?”
His voice was slurred and barely coherent as he muttered and slowly opened his eyes. His vision, unfocused and cloudy, wavered with the fleeting image of someone he desperately longed to see.
“Yu-jin…”
The name burst from his lips before he even realized it, and he shot upright—only to be met with the piercing glare of Madam Campbell, not the person he had hoped to see.
“Mother.”
His voice was lower than usual, and the disappointment in it was all too clear. That tone only fanned the flames of her anger.
“What a disgrace, Winston Campbell.”
Arms folded, she stood looking down at him, her words seething through gritted teeth.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing? Just how much did you drink to end up like this?”
Despite her harsh reprimand, Winston barely reacted. He didn’t even seem to care. Instead, he lazily reached for a half-empty bottle sitting on the table.
“Stop that!”
Madam Campbell snapped and yanked the bottle from his hand. Instantly, Winston’s face darkened, and a cloying wave of pheromones mingled with the stench of alcohol.
That reaction left Madam Campbell even more stunned.
“Are you seriously getting angry with me right now? You?”
“Give it back, Mother.”
Winston’s voice was flat, dismissive, as if she were a nuisance. He waved his hand irritably, but Madam Campbell stood her ground and scolded him even more sternly.
“Pull yourself together and get up. You’re the head of the Campbell family! I will not tolerate this kind of behavior!”
She was still confident—convinced that her good, obedient son would, as always, listen to his mother. That he would rise again, reclaim his composure, and return to being the perfect heir of the Campbell name.
…That’s what she believed.
Until the moment he suddenly shot to his feet, a deep scowl etched across his face.
Faced with the towering bulk of her son standing unexpectedly before her, Madam Campbell instinctively flinched and stumbled back in shock.
