Chapter 3: A Deal with the Devil

She tried to reason with him, her voice pleading. The fear in her words was unmistakable. She was terrified.

"How could we not save you..."

Her voice broke, the weight of her helplessness crashing down. She pressed the phone to her cheek, tears soaking the screen. Grief threatened to swallow her whole.

I yanked the phone from her hand, a cruel smile twisting my face. Then I smiled for the camera, as if nothing was wrong.

I snatched the phone away, forcing a crooked smile for the camera. The chat exploded with outrage, but I barely glanced at it. The world could rage all it wanted.

"Mason, you really are a good kid."

I let the words hang in the air, as if I was proud. The audience recoiled, disgusted by my tone. The silence was thick, suffocating.

"It's so dangerous there. Mom and Dad won't come. We'll listen to you."

I said it with mock sincerity, as if I was following Mason’s advice. The viewers’ anger grew, comments flying by in a blur. No one believed me.

"In the future, your little brothers and sisters will remember they had a good big brother."

I twisted the knife, the words landing with cruel finality. Even the bodyguards looked away, unable to watch. The room was ice-cold.

"Hang in there. Don't be afraid."

My voice was almost gentle, the contrast with my actions jarring. The chat filled with expletives and accusations. The world was against me.

The kidnapper didn't show his face. He kicked the child three more times while holding the phone, each blow more savage than the last.

The camera shook as Mason was kicked, his cries growing weaker. The audience was on the verge of mutiny, demanding action. The tension was explosive.

The screams made the viewers' hearts ache. Autumn's eyes burned red with rage, fury simmering beneath the tears.

She glared at me, fists clenched, her whole body trembling with fury. The pain and rage in her eyes were almost unbearable to witness. I looked away.

"Graham, what are you talking about?"

Her voice was hoarse, disbelief and anger mingling. The question echoed through the house and the livestream, everyone demanding an answer. Silence pressed in.

Her voice carried through the phone to the livestream, broadcasting my name to everyone. The world now knew who to blame.

The kidnapper laughed even louder, picking up a hammer and swinging it menacingly, his movements taunting and cruel.

The laughter was manic, echoing through the speakers. The hammer glinted in the light, a threat and a promise. No one dared move.

"Damn, Graham, you're cold. You won't even save your own son!"

The kidnapper taunted me, voice dripping with mockery. The chat echoed his words, the public turning against me. The pressure was suffocating.

"I'll give you half a day to think about it. Ten million isn't hard for you."

He set the deadline, his tone casual. The threat was clear—every minute I delayed, Mason suffered. The countdown had begun.

"First the eyes, then the ears and limbs. The longer you drag this out, the more your son suffers. It's up to you!"

He listed his threats with chilling nonchalance. The viewers begged me to act, but I sat still, unmoved. I felt nothing.

I heard rapid breathing. I met Autumn's pleading gaze, her eyes wide with terror and hope.

Her eyes begged me to do something, anything. The silence between us was a chasm, filled with all the words we couldn't say. I looked away.

"Honey, it's just ten million. I'm begging you!"

Her voice was ragged, each word a plea. She dropped to her knees again, grabbing my hand. The desperation was suffocating.

The call cut off again. In the livestream, viewers started criticizing me, their condemnation relentless.

The chat turned against me in an instant. People called me a monster, a coward, a disgrace. The condemnation was relentless. My name was mud.

"Graham, a quick online search shows you have a company worth over a billion, so many luxury cars and mansions, and only this one kid!"

Screenshots of my wealth circulated. People tallied up my assets. The outrage grew, the pressure mounting. I felt the world closing in.

"Only child and you won't save him? Is this really his dad? That's heartless!"

The disbelief was palpable. People couldn’t fathom my indifference, their anger growing by the second. The chat was a tidal wave.

"Such a good kid, suffering so much, and his dad's a monster!"

The insults flew, each one sharper than the last. The chat was a firestorm of rage. My reputation burned.

"Maybe because the kid's eyes are gone, he just abandoned him?"

Speculation turned cruel, people inventing motives for my actions. The world was watching, and they were judging. There was no escape.

"Where are the police..."

The question hung in the air, a desperate plea for order in the chaos. The viewers demanded action, not just from me, but from the authorities. The air was thick with anxiety.

Viewers in the livestream started tagging my name, filling the feed with notifications.

My notifications exploded. People tagged me by name, flooding my inbox with messages, threats, and pleas. My phone buzzed nonstop.

My assistant, sweat beading at his temples, held the phone and nervously approached me, eyes darting.

He hesitated at the edge of the room, clearly uncomfortable. His hands shook as he offered me the phone, eyes darting between me and the screen. The tension was unbearable.

"Mr. Graham, all the online chatter is about you and the company. They're saying... they're saying you let your son die and aren't even human."

His voice was low, almost apologetic. He looked at me with a mix of fear and pity, as if he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. He waited for my response.

Autumn's sobbing made the assistant feel sorry for her, and there was accusation in his eyes, but he stayed silent—his position wouldn't let him say more.

He glanced at Autumn, jaw clenched. The unspoken judgment hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I could feel it pressing on my skin.

I glanced at the screen, rested my chin on my hand. Then I spoke, the room holding its breath.

I leaned back, adopting a thoughtful pose. The room waited, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. All eyes were on me.

"Who said I wouldn't save him?"

The words were casual, almost playful. The sudden shift caught everyone off guard. The mood changed in an instant.

The sobbing stopped. Several hopeful eyes turned to me. I put on an affectionate look, pretending for the cameras.

The room held its breath. For a moment, hope flickered in Autumn’s eyes, her tears pausing midstream. The silence was electric.

"After all, he's my own son. Of course I'll save him."

I let the words hang, pretending to be the loving father everyone expected. The chat hesitated, unsure how to react. The world paused.

Suddenly, Autumn covered her mouth and said I wasn't completely heartless after all, pulling me to go with her.

She rushed to my side, relief flooding her face. She clung to my arm, ready to follow me anywhere if it meant saving Mason. Hope flickered.

I stepped back, avoiding her, and dropped onto the sofa.

I sidestepped her, the warmth in my eyes fading. I dropped onto the sofa, arms crossed, unmoved. The hope in the room vanished.