From Black and white to Purpose and Light

Chapter 8

With just a wave of Venice’s hand, the intruders were swiftly surrounded by his men.

“Take them to Dad. He’ll know how to handle them properly.” His tone was calm, almost soft, but the steel in his eyes told a different story—one that made his enemies shiver.

“TAKE THEM AWAY. NOW!”

His men swiftly clasped iron restraints around the thieves’ wrists, ensuring not even the faintest chance of escape. Struggling was useless—the grip was merciless. By force, they dragged the intruders out of the office, their footsteps echoing down the hall as the heavy door shut behind them.

His nose flared with anger as he glared in the direction where they had been taken. But the fury didn’t last long. Weakness quickly overtook him, and his body sank back into his chair. The weight of exhaustion pressed down heavily. He propped his elbow against the desk and rested his head heavily in his hand.

“Rain…” he whispered, the name slipping from his lips like a plea, heavy with longing and pain.

Venice didn’t even realize when his eyelids grew heavy again. Before he knew it, darkness claimed him, pulling him back into unconsciousness. He had no idea what would unfold in his absence.

Venice woke up to find himself back in his room. A dull ache throbbed through his head as he slowly pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

The door creaked open, and someone rushed inside. Relief washed over the man’s face the moment he saw Venice awake.

“Venice is awake!” he shouted out the door before hurrying to his side, almost tripping in his eagerness.

“Thank God you’re fine,” Saifah breathed, his voice trembling with both relief and fear. “If you weren’t… Dad would’ve already taken their lives.”

Before Venice could respond, the sharp sound of heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs. He didn’t need to wonder who it was—he already knew.

His most dramatic uncle, Khun, stormed into the room. He didn’t ask how Venice was; instead, he jabbed a finger toward him, his voice booming.

“How dare you make us worry, you brat!”

Luckily, his husband, Dr. Top, followed closely behind. He laid a calming hand on Khun’s arm, gently reminding him, “Don’t stress him out.”

Soon after, the rest of the family arrived, crowding the doorway, their faces filled with worry as they rushed in to see Venice for themselves.

“How are you feeling, honey?” his Pa asked softly.

“I’m fine,” Venice replied, his tone cold and distant.

Even after twenty years, their presence still felt like a weight he could never quite carry. The only ones he had grown accustomed to were his grandfather, granduncle, and cousins. Everyone else remained strangers—even the two people who were supposed to be his parents.

A heavy silence settled over the room, thick enough to make everyone shift uncomfortably. The weight of Venice’s coldness lingered in the air, pressing down on them.

Sensing the tension, Porsche stepped in with a gentle smile, his tone light as he broke the ice.

“We should go,” he said softly. “Let Venice rest.”

In the living room, all the couples sat together, still lost in heavy thoughts about what had happened earlier.

“Do you think Venice will ever warm up to us?” one of them finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Who really knows what that kid is thinking?” Khun sighed, frustration lacing his tone. “Even after twenty years of living with him, I don’t think we’ve ever truly understood him.”

“Judging by his actions, do you think he might be traumatized?” Dr. Top asked carefully. The choice of words wasn’t perfect, but if he didn’t voice it, the problem would remain unspoken.

“I don’t think so,” Vegas replied flatly. “Dad never mentioned anything like that.”

Kinn leaned forward, concern etched on his face. “But don’t you think trauma might be the reason why he still struggles to see us as family?”

“I can’t say,” Khun admitted with a shake of his head. “There are countless reasons why a person could be the way he is.”

Even knowing it might hurt, Pete still spoke up, his voice soft with hope. “Do you think Venice will ever get close to us one day?”

“Just give him time,” someone answered gently. “Let the kid open up on his own. I’m sure, one day, he will.”

Porsche placed a reassuring hand on Pete’s shoulder.

“Give Venice some time. He’ll open up to you eventually,” he said with quiet certainty.

“There is a way for that.”

The door creaked as it swung open, and in walked Gun and Korn.

Back in Venice’s room

He sat in silence, still replaying the events of the previous day in his mind, when the door swung open and his cousins entered with Saifah right behind them.

“Yo,” Kharin greeted, plopping down on the edge of the bed. “I heard you got drugged. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Phi,” Venice answered calmly.

“Did that dream powder leave any side effects? Nothing serious, right?” Saifah asked, worry lacing his voice.

Venice’s lips curved faintly. “Just a headache.”

“That damn spy! Uncle Vegas should torture him to death!” Prapai cursed, his voice rising with indignation.

Before he could say more, Dia smacked him lightly on the back of the head. “i***t! Shut the f*** up before Uncle Kinn confiscates your bike again.”

“Phi, look!” Prapai whined dramatically, clutching his head. “Dia’s hurting me!”

Dia gasped, slapping a hand over his chest in mock outrage. “What are you, five years old? Grow up! You’re older than Venice, yet you act like you’re the youngest.” He rolled his eyes.

“Stop quarrelling, will you?” Kharin cut in, exasperated.

“You’re giving Venice another headache.”

Trying to ease the mood, Saifah reached into his bag. “Don’t know if you’ll like this, but… here,” he said, pulling out a popsicle and handing it to Venice.

Venice accepted it slowly, peeling back the wrapper. His eyes lingered on the frozen treat—a strawberry-flavored ice cream. For a moment, his expression softened, and a secret smile flickered across his lips. He knew only one person who loved this flavor more than anything.

The shift in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

“Aiyah! Look what you’ve done, Sai—you made Venice emotional!” someone exclaimed.

Saifah’s back straightened, panic flashing across his face. “I’m so sorry, Phi, I—”

But Venice cut him off gently. “No… you didn’t. It’s just… nothing.”

The others exchanged glances, speaking volumes without words. They had already decided what to do next.

“Ven, we’ll go now,” Kharin said softly. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Mhm,” Venice murmured in reply.

Everyone else left the room, but Saifah remained. He pulled a chair closer to his brother and leaned in.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said softly. “I know that powder reminded you of him again. Did you… see him in your dream?”

Venice’s gaze turned distant, a quiet longing flickering in his eyes as he looked at his brother.

“I did.” His lips curved into a smile, though it carried the weight of sorrow. “Sai… do you think I’m becoming obsessed?”

Saifah reached out, taking his brother’s hand and wrapping it firmly in his own.

“No, Phi,” he murmured. “You just… missed him, that's all.”

He hesitated then, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He could not begin to understand the depth of the pain his brother carried. And though he wanted to ask—wanted to know who this person truly was—he stopped himself. For not once had that name been spoken freely from Venice’s lips.