One day after a car accident, I woke up in an unfamiliar room, sharing a bed with a man I had never seen before. He was sound asleep beside me, not moving at all. Out of curiosity, I took a closer look at him and realized he was a huge and intimidating man. At that moment, I was terrified because I had no idea what was going on. Wasn't I supposed to be in the hospital after my recent accident? Why was I half-dressed in bed with a shirtless man?

Well, let's start from the beginning. My name is Hideaki Hashimoto, and this is my story. I am the only son of business magnate Isaishi Nakamura. My father founded several companies and amassed a great fortune, so one could say I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I was a privileged human being; my parents were loving, and they were an excellent couple, always taking care of me and showing love. However, when I was 15, my mother passed away. Out of nowhere, a woman showed up at our door asking:

"Is Isaishi home?"

"Who are you?"

"Tell him I'm Aoi Watanabe."

After hearing this, I went straight to my father and relayed the woman's words. Seeing my father's expression change — he paled and sat down quickly with a lengthy sigh — was unsettling. Then he said:

"Son, tell that woman to come in."

"Yes, father."

I went to the door and let the woman in, only then noticing she wasn't alone; she was accompanied by a boy around 9 or 10 years old. The boy glared at me with anger and followed the woman inside. I ushered them into the living room, and after a few minutes, my father emerged and said:

"Son, go to your room. I have to talk to her about something important."

"Yes, father."

I went upstairs, but instead of entering my room, I stayed perched on the banister, trying to eavesdrop out of sheer curiosity, unaware that this would change my life.

Despite being near the edge of the banister, I couldn't hear a thing. However, I saw my father's face showing a mix of anger and impatience. That's when I remembered the spy kit my father gave me at 10 — I still had it in my room. I retrieved it and, after about a minute and a half of searching, found a small antenna that could pick up conversations from a distance. I grabbed it, hurried back to the banister, placed it there, put on the headphones, and adjusted the antenna to intercept the signal.

The moment I activated the microphone antenna, I could vividly hear their conversation. First, my father's voice:

"How can you be so sure that child is mine?"

At those words, rage rippled through me. Were they talking about the boy accompanying the woman? Had my father been unfaithful, resulting in a child from the affair? I couldn't fully grasp the situation because, despite being older, I was still a teenager and didn't have the maturity to comprehend what was unfolding.

Nevertheless, I continued listening to gather more details. After my father spoke, the woman responded:

"How can you deny it when you knew very well that I got pregnant after that time? I told you a million times, and you just ignored me, leaving me with our son."

"Don't play me for a fool. I know full well I wasn't the only one spending nights at your place; many of my friends were also 'guests' of yours. So don't try to pass off this kid as mine; I wasn't the only one, so start looking for his father elsewhere because I'm certain he isn't mine."

"Don't fabricate events that didn't happen. I was only with you. In contrast, you were with your wife and me simultaneously."

"Yes, I accept my mistake. I left my beloved wife for someone as low as you, and due to that mistake, my wife despised me until her last breath."

"That's not my fault. If she hated you, that's your problem. You weren't forced to cheat with me, were you?"

"That's true, no one forced me. But as I said before, I wasn't the only one in your bed. So don't come dumping someone else's child on me."

"If you don't believe me, do a DNA test. I'm so sure he's your son that I don't care about the truth. Go ahead and check for yourself."

"I will because I won't fall for another one of your tricks—I know you were the one who told my wife about my infidelity."

"She had the right to know that her husband wasn't a saint, and that he isn't a father of one, but two—and you'll have to split your inheritance between them."

"I know you did that to push her away from me. But it's your fault she died. If you hadn't told her at that moment, she wouldn't have been in that car accident."

"I didn't know, but to be honest, I don't care. I'm here to claim my son's rights. If you didn't want a child, you should have taken precautions. And if you didn't want your precious wife to hate you, you shouldn't have been unfaithful. That's your fault, not mine."

"Yes, I am to blame. Because of my stupidity, and as I said, the mistake I made with you, my family fell apart and my son lost his mother."

"Stop acting like the victim. My son grew up without a father and he's fine. Your son grew up with everything, and he received enough attention as a child, so he's not the victim here."

"Regardless, my son is still just a child and will continue to be one until he is of age. He still needed his

mother in his life, and due to your stupid outburst, he lost her."

"Fine, let's say it was all my fault, but I'm here to discuss the piece of the pie my son is entitled to, because he's also yours. If you don't believe me, get him tested. I don't care because I know he's your son. Once you're certain, contact me to negotiate our agreement. You'll have to provide support and a share of your company because he's your son."

"Very well, I'll get the paternity test done. If the results are positive, I'll contact you. If they're negative, you better never show your face here again; if he really is my son, I'll give him a monthly allowance and leave a part of my company as inheritance, but for him alone, not a cent for you—I know you're a leech that latches on wherever there's money. Everything I leave will be for him, not you."

"Fine, I look forward to your call. See you."

After overhearing the conversation, I was filled with sadness and fury. I hated my father for what he did to my mother and hated that woman for being the cause of my mother's accident; she wasn't directly responsible, but she delivered the news that made my mother lose control of her car.

Once the woman left, I confronted my father and asked why he betrayed her. He said, "I see you heard everything."

"Yes, I heard every horrible word."

"I'm sorry, son. I didn't want you to find out this way."

"You didn't want me to find out at all, but thanks to that woman I know what you did, and what she did to my mom."

"I know I don't deserve yours or your mother's forgiveness. It was a mistake, I didn't want all this to happen."

"People rarely wish ill on someone they betray, yet something bad always happens—an example being my mom."

"I'm truly sorry, son."

"Apologies don't change that my mother died, or that you cheated and had a child with that woman."

"I'm not certain the child is mine."

"I don't trust you or that woman. However, if he is your son, he is innocent. The culprits are you two."

"The child might be guiltless, but I'm not sure he's mine—she was with many at once and I wasn't exclusive to her, so I stand by my thoughts."

"I don't care how many men she saw or your relations with her; it disgusts and angers me, knowing what you did to my mom."

"I know she was a wonderful woman and mother, and a caring wife."

"If she had all those traits, why betray her?"

"I was tired of the monotony, wanted to break from routine, and she helped me."

"So you were bored and couldn't communicate? Instead, you chose betrayal. That's not love."

"You're young, you wouldn't understand."

"Don't treat me like a little kid. I may not grasp life fully, but one thing I know: love doesn't betray. If you loved mom, you wouldn't have done it. You didn't love us, me, or the family. Love is not just about affection; it's about respect, support, and communication, which you failed to provide, preferring another woman over my mother's feelings."

"I've apologized, and there's no point to continue this."

"Nor do I wish to continue because I realize I'm speaking with someone who doesn't grasp life. You may be older, and my father, but you don't understand anything."

"I'll indulge you because I don't want to fight."

"I intend not to argue either, but let me be clear: I won't live in this house anymore. If you claim to be a good father, send me to study abroad, anywhere, I don't want to stay."

"I decide, you're underage, and you'll stay if I want it."

"Prefer an insolent coexistence? Because I assure you, it will remain, I can't stand you anymore. Knowing you betrayed my mother makes me distrust and hate you."

"That doesn't concern me, families argue."

"We're no family now. We were a family with my mother alive, but not anymore."

"Stop being stubborn. Pretend it never happened."

"You think it's easy to forget, especially when it caused my mother's death?"

"Just listen."

"I'll ask kindly once more—if you wish me to call you 'father,' send me away. If I stay, my anger and resentment will grow to an unbearable point, and I won't be able to stay under the same roof or country as you."

"I'll let you go if you promise to call me 'father' upon your return."

"I promise—at least, I don't break my promises. Rest assured, father, that when I return, I'll address you the same way."

"Alright, I'll arrange a school, and once I've found the right place, I'll send you there."

"Thank you."

After the talk, I retreated to my room, locked the door, crawled under the covers, and began to cry. I wasn't sure why tears streamed uncontrollably, but it relieved the weight of my anger and frustration. Had I stayed in the living room, I don't know what I might have done, but thankfully he agreed to let me go. Months later, I escaped that golden prison to my freedom, nearly forgetting what happened—harboring no intense grudge against my father or that woman and tried to live as my mother would have wished, without vengeful thoughts, just living my life.

As soon as I heard what had happened, I felt such sorrow and rage. I despised my father for what he did to my mother, and I also hated that woman because she was the cause of my mother’s accident. Not directly, but she made my mother lose control of her car due to the news she delivered.

The moment that woman left our house, the first thing I did was confront my father and ask him why he cheated. He told me:

"I see you've heard everything."

"Yes, I heard every terrible word."

"I'm sorry, son, I didn't want you to find out like this."

"Rather, you never wanted me to find out at all, but thanks to that woman, I know everything you did and what that woman did to my mother."

"I know I don't deserve forgiveness from you or your mother, but it was a mistake, honestly, I didn't want all of this to happen."

"When one person betrays another, they rarely wish misfortune on the betrayed, but it always ends up happening, and the perfect example is my mother."

"Son, I am truly asking for your forgiveness."

"Apologies don’t change the fact that my mother died and that you were unfaithful, and you also have a child with that woman."

"I know an apology won't change anything, but I still want to apologize. Besides, I don't even know if the kid is really mine."

"I don't trust you, but I don't trust that woman either. However, if the child is really yours, it's not his fault; you two are to blame because you committed that"error.

"I know the child is innocent. But as I said, I'm not sure he's mine. That woman was with many simultaneously, and I wasn't the only one with her, so my opinion remains strong."

"Honestly, I don't care how many men that woman has been with or if you were with her more than once. It’s something I truly have no interest in or want to know about. All it does is disgust me and fill me with anger because you were capable of doing that to my mother, a woman who loved you and respected you until her last day."

"I know your mother was a good woman, an excellent mother, and a loving and considerate wife."

"If my mother had so many virtues, why did you betray her?"

"I was tired of the monotony, tired of everything always being the same, the daily routine never changing. I was tired of it all. I loved your mother, but every day was the same, and nothing changed, neither in her nor in what she did. I wanted to break out of that routine, and that woman helped me."

"So all of this was because you were tired of every day being the same? You didn't care about my mother's feelings or mine; you only cared about your own. Why didn't you tell my mother you were tired of everything being the same, that you wanted to change the routine, that you wanted to do something new? Instead, you stayed silent," said nothing, and chose to cheat. That's not love.

"You're still very young, and you wouldn’t understand."

"Don't treat me like a little child because I'm not, and I may not understand many things about life, but I do understand one thing: love does not betray. If you really loved my mother, you would never have done this, and by doing it, you've shown that you didn’t love her or me. You didn’t love your family or your home, nor did you respect it because love isn't just about affection; it's about respect, support, being there through good and bad times, communication" something you didn’t do and you preferred to be with another woman to satisfy your desires without caring about my mother’s feelings and whether she would ever find out or not.

"I apologize, and I have no intention of continuing this conversation that’s leading nowhere."

"I'm not interested in continuing this conversation either because I realize I'm talking to someone who understands nothing about life. You might be older than me and my father, but you don’t understand anything."

"I’m going to play along because I simply don't want to fight with you."

"I don’t feel like fighting with you either, but I will tell you one thing: I won’t live in this house anymore. So, as such a great father, send me away to study abroad, to England, the United States, wherever you want, but I don't want to stay here."

"You don't call the shots; you're still underage, and if I want you to stay in this house, you will."

"Do you prefer our coexistence to continue being like it is today? Because I assure you it will, since I can’t stand you anymore. Knowing that you betrayed my mother makes me distrust and hate you and not want to see you ever again. If we continue to live in the same house, we’ll have to see each other, and we'll end up arguing."

"I don’t care about arguments; they always happen in families, so it doesn’t matter to me."

"We are no longer a family. We were a family when my mother was alive, but not anymore."

"Stop being so stubborn and just get on with your ordinary life. Pretend none of this ever happened, that you never heard this conversation, that we never argued about it."

"You think it's so easy to forget, especially when it’s something that caused your mother’s death?"

"Just do as I say."

"I kindly ask you once more, father, if you want me to keep calling you father, send me away from this place. If I stay here, the anger and resentment against you will keep growing to a point where I won't be able to stand being in the same room or house as you, let alone the same country."

"I will let you go if you promise to keep calling me father when you return."

"I promise. At least I don't break my promises, so rest assured, father, that when I return, I will continue to address you in the same way."

"Alright, I’ll agree to your request. I’ll look for a school for you, and once I find the right place, I’ll send you there."

"Thank you."

After we finished the conversation, I went to my room, closed the door, crawled under the covers, and started to cry. I genuinely didn't know why my tears were coming out without any control on my part. However, that made me feel a bit lighter, as I had let out all my anger and frustration. As I cried, I was so angry that I didn’t know what I might have done if I had remained with him in the living room. Fortunately, he agreed to let me go, and a few months after that discussion, I finally escaped from that golden cage and found my freedom. There, I almost entirely forgot what had happened. I didn’t hold as much resentment toward my father or that woman, and although I can’t say I forgave them, I tried to think the way my mother would have. I knew she would have told me to live my life without desires for revenge, and that's what I did.

My father sent me to a well-regarded school in the United Kingdom, where I spent the best years of my life. I focused on studying, making friends, establishing connections, started my own company, did the best I could, and tried to live happily. Occasionally, my father would call to check on me; I attempted to keep the conversations brief, responding with short "yes" or "no" answers to his questions.

My first year there felt like a dream. I learned about a new culture, made many friends, and studied hard. I always tried to be at the top of my class, or at least among the best, while balancing work with leisure and outings. Thankfully, I succeeded in that.

While studying, I was completely focused, and when I was with my friends, I could forget everything else. A year after arriving in this new place, I had become one of the locals—I didn’t feel uncomfortable or lonely. On the contrary, I had made many friends and had become more social, attending parties and group outings. One day, when we went out to see a movie, everything went normally—we paid for tickets, bought some snacks, entered the theater, watched the film, and afterward, we decided to go to a restaurant. Upon arriving, we saw some guys intimidating four girls. Being the gentlemen we were, we went to their aid. In return for our help, they offered to buy our dinner, which we initially declined because we hadn't sought any reward. However, the girls insisted, and to avoid making them feel bad, we gratefully accepted their kind gesture. We had a peaceful dinner, chatted a bit, exchanged phone numbers, and then each went to our own homes.

Months later, one of the girls contacted me, asking if I’d like to have dinner with her. I said it would be a pleasure. We chose a date, time, and place, and there we met. After dinner, we went to see a light show in the city center where I was staying and then had some street food. I walked her home and then headed to mine. Days later, she contacted me again, and we went out, enjoyed a meal, and visited a zoo, as she wanted to go with someone, but her friends were busy. So, I accompanied her. It was a lot of fun, reminding me of when my mother took me to the zoo as a child.

After that day, she and I became best friends, and it remained that way for about two more years. Then, one day she invited me to dinner and confessed her feelings. While I had great affection for her and cared deeply, I accepted being her partner, although I didn’t really understand love and thus never said “I love you.” Nevertheless, we were an ordinary couple—we ate together, held hands, and occasionally kissed, but that was all. We stayed together until three months before my departure from the United Kingdom to Japan. On a date, she asked if I loved her and I couldn’t answer, not knowing if my feelings were love or just fondness. Following my silence, she realized I didn’t love her and said, “I don’t understand how I could have wasted six years of my life with someone who doesn’t love me.”

I replied honestly, “I don’t know what love is. I’ve never felt it, and that’s why I couldn’t answer you.”

She challenged, “It’s hard to believe you don’t know what love is. Even if you haven’t felt it, perhaps you’ve seen it with relatives or friends, which might give you an idea.”

“I thought I knew what love was, but reality showed me otherwise. I have a vague idea that love involves sacrifice, mutual understanding, respect, and responsibility.”

“Then why are you still confused if you know that much?”

“Because, even though I respect and understand you and have been by your side, I don’t know if I’d be willing to sacrifice something for you.”

She acknowledged, “I understand. Even though you don’t love me, I’m grateful for the time you’ve spent with me, for looking after me, listening to me, and giving advice.”

“I, too, am grateful for your company during a very gray period in my life. You made me appreciate having people around, and your presence made me feel less lonely.”

After a brief conversation, we hugged for the last time and said goodbye in the park where we once had our first date.

Months later in the United Kingdom, I completed my academic training, certified as an economist, and finished my university degree. It was time to return to Japan, my home.

The closer the time came for my return, the more nervous I became, knowing a different reality awaited me, and the beautiful dream of the past years would disappear. But this did not bother me, as I dearly missed my homeland’s food and culture.

Upon my return to Japan, I found a shock waiting for me. A stranger was sleeping in my room, which had once been mine. Stunned, I asked about the intruder and was told he was the new young master of the house.

Confused—I was supposed to be the young master—I waited for my father to inquire about the situation. When he arrived, I greeted him, "Good evening, Father, I hope you've been well these past years."

"Good afternoon, yes, I've been fine,” he replied.

"Father, I have a question. I would like to know who the young man in my room is."

"That young man you saw is your half-brother, Osamu."

"And why is he in my room? Couldn’t you provide him with his own?"

"He had his own room, but there was an accident, and we needed to remodel, so he's using your old room temporarily. Since I didn’t know when or if you would return, I gave it to him."

"How thoughtful of you with your son, as it seems I'm the surplus in this family. I’ll spend the night at a hotel."

"There's no need. The guest room is available; you can stay there."

"Oh, how fortunate. Then, if that room is free, why didn’t you give it to Osamu while his room was being prepared?"

"Because your room is more comfortable."

"Fine, thank you for the information, Father. But as I said, I prefer a hotel for everyone’s comfort."

Upon leaving, I ran into the woman, my half-brother's mother, and overheard the housemaid greet her, "Madam, you're back. Would you like dinner?"

"No, I'll go straight to my room," she replied.

Hearing that turned my stomach, and I realized my father had married that horrible woman despite everything I'd told him. It felt so hypocritical, and I was disgusted to belong to that family.

I departed heartbroken and disappointed. As the days passed, I discovered more: two years after I'd left, my father had married her, legally recognized Osamu, had a three-year-old daughter with her, had let her manage my mother's foundations, and was planning to give her my mother’s company shares. Learning this, anger coursed through me, as that man who had cursed and spoken ill of her was now protecting and giving her everything my mother had once owned. It infuriated me more and at that moment, I decided to reclaim what belonged to my mother.

I devised a plan to recover everything, first locating my mother's will and hiring the best lawyer in Japan to assist me. Once I won the legal battle against that woman and my father, 70 percent of shares in 15 companies, three country houses, an apartment in Tokyo, five foundations, and three orphanages were returned to me.

Angered, they tried to strip me of it all, but failed. Conversely, I persuaded several shareholders to sell me their stakes, becoming the majority shareholder of nine companies and president of the most important and most profitable one. My father, stepbrother, and that woman were furious, as I’d ousted them of nearly all their assets in the blink of an eye. They hadn't realized they could be left destitute due to my mother's will. I wasn’t that callous; I allowed my father to keep his mansion and gave him a monthly cheque, and I let my brother work as an assistant manager in one of the companies so they could both get by. I had been generous, I thought, and figured they wouldn’t be so angry, but I was gravely mistaken, and soon one of them would bring about my demise...