I Became Rich With My System

Chapter 20

The word Black Serpent echoed inside my skull, sharp, unreal. My breath caught in my throat.

“What do you mean?” I rasped, staring at the president as though I could tear the truth out of his face. “What the hell do you mean my son is also a victim? I tested him myself. I checked everything—he was fine! Perfectly fine!”

The president didn’t flinch. Calm, deliberate, he reached into his leather case and handed me a slim folder.

“See for yourself.”

My hands trembled as I opened it. Inside were medical documents—charts, scans, neurological notes. My eyes locked on the brain image, a black-and-white printout where irregular shadows sprawled like cracks in glass.

“What the…” My throat went dry.

The president’s voice was grave, unyielding. “That is your son’s brain. The genetic markers confirm the presence of the psychopathy gene. It isn’t dormant anymore. It’s active.”

“No.” My head shook violently. “No, that’s impossible. He’s just a child. My boy—he smiles, he laughs, he plays—he can’t—”

The words broke. My chest heaved. I forced myself to deny it. To deny everything.

But the president leaned forward, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder. His grip was firm, grounding, merciless.

“Kael,” he said, his tone like steel cutting through the air, “don’t lie to yourself. Your son has already killed. That… urge, once awakened, is nearly impossible to suppress. He will crave it again.”

I wanted to scream at him. To break his face for even saying it. But my voice refused to rise.

“There is a way,” the president added quietly. “If you can reach Malik Radwan. My sources say he has discovered a method to counter the demonic brain mutation. An antidote.”

My blood ran cold. My mind spun. Malik Radwan—terrorist, butcher, ghost. And yet, my son’s only hope?

“I will make sure he’s protected in the meantime,” the president continued, eyes narrowing with political weight. “But time is against you, Kael.”

I swallowed my pain, forcing it down, pressing it deep into the pit of my gut. If I broke here, everything else would shatter. I placed the file on the seat, my hand shaking, and reached for the door.

But just before I stepped out, I froze.

“Mr. President,” I said without turning back. “I want to ask you something.”

His voice came steady. “Ask.”

I turned to him. My eyes burning, my throat tight. “Can I trust you?”

For a long moment, silence filled the car. The president’s gaze locked onto mine, heavy, unreadable, peeling away at my soul.

Finally, he said with cutting precision, “Trust me not as a man, Kael, but as an institution. Men fall. Institutions endure. That is all I can offer you.”

The words hit like a blade. Cold. Professional. Final.

I nodded once and pushed the door open.

Seraphina stood waiting. Her eyes studied me, as though reading every crack in my face.

“Keep your promise tomorrow,” I told her quietly.

Her lips curled into a half-smile. “Of course. I always keep my promises.”

I didn’t answer. I just walked away.

---

When I reached home, the air inside was thick with grief. Aria sat hunched on the couch, her eyes swollen, fixed on me as though my presence was both a lifeline and a curse.

I sat beside her. Silent. Words refused to form.

“What happened to our son?” she whispered finally, her voice brittle.

“He’s going to be fine,” I forced out. My voice broke halfway, but I held her gaze.

She shook her head, tears spilling again. “He’s still just a boy, Kael. My boy.”

Her words tumbled out, desperate, pained. “I’ve always watched him. Always checked on him. Even when everyone whispered that he was the son of a criminal, he never fought, never lashed out. He believed in you. He always said his father wasn’t a criminal—that the world was wrong about you. He stayed positive. He smiled. He was so good.”

Her sobs deepened. “I don’t know when that changed. How it could. He’s too young to do what they say. Too young! A child his age doesn’t have the heart to kill… What if—what if he’s being framed, Kael? Can’t you investigate? Can’t you do something?”

Her tears soaked into my chest as I pulled her into my arms. I held her tight, tighter than I ever had. She broke down completely, her body shaking in my embrace.

Later, when exhaustion pulled her under and her sobbing faded into shallow breaths, I laid her down and covered her with a blanket.

My eyes drifted to the wall. A photo of our son hung there—his posture bright, his smile wide, his small hand holding a paper plane. His eyes, filled with hope, seemed to look right through me.

Guilt cut through me like knives. My chest hollowed out. I turned away, unable to stand the sight any longer, and stepped outside.

The night air slapped me, cold and sharp. I walked toward the dorm, my mind spiraling.

Then, a car slowed beside me. The window rolled down, and out stepped Jessica, her smirk cruel under the streetlight.

“Well, well,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Kael Freedom, the untouchable, heartbroken over his son. Tragic.”

I glared, my fists tightening. “I’m not in the mood for your games, Jessica. You’d better know how to act around me right now.”

She chuckled darkly. “Oh, I agree. Parents like you are never in their senses at times like this.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping. “But I didn’t come to laugh at you. I have information. Vital information.”

My eyes narrowed. “How?”

Her smile widened. “During your son’s surgery… I think Dr. Milton had something to say about it.”

My blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”

She tossed something at me. A glossy photo fluttered in the air before I caught it. My stomach twisted as I saw it.

Jessica’s voice was almost gleeful. “I think your son’s brain was replaced during the surgery.”

My jaw tightened as I lifted the photo again, staring at it like it could give me an answer.

“What the hell do you mean by that, Jessica?” I demanded, my voice low, dangerous.

Jessica tilted her head, lips curving in that smug smile of hers. “I mean exactly what I said. Do you remember Milton Carroway’s lab?”

The name alone made my stomach knot.

She went on, her tone sharp. “He isn’t just some respected doctor. He’s experimenting—performing surgeries on people with the psychopathic gene. Cutting into their skulls, replacing their brains with ‘original’ ones. Clean brains, he calls them. But…” She leaned closer, her voice a whisper like a blade. “There’s a high chance your son wasn’t given a clean brain. Milton could have replaced his with another brain—one belonging to a psychopath.”

The world spun around me. My fists clenched, veins screaming with rage.

Jessica stepped back, eyes gleaming. “If you don’t believe me, Kael, find your son’s homeroom teacher. Confirm the changes in him. That teacher saw everything—the way he acted before… and after. Milton is far more dangerous than you’ve let yourself believe.”

I felt my throat burn, words cutting out like sparks. “Then after tomorrow night, it ends.”

She blinked, curious. “What do you mean?”

I stared out at the empty street, my voice heavy with resolve. “Tomorrow, I’ll finally get inside the Elite Society. Once I’m in, I can wipe away the horror my name carries. No one will see me as the criminal they whisper about. And with their resources, I’ll be able to go head-to-head with Milton Carroway himself.”

Jessica gave a soft, mocking laugh, but her eyes flickered with something else—caution, maybe even fear. “I’ll really hope so, Kael. Because if you fail…” She let the sentence hang, sharp and cruel.

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reply. I shoved the photo into my jacket, turned, and walked away. Every step felt heavier, but my resolve had never been clearer.

Tomorrow night would decide everything.

I dragged my feet toward the dorm, the weight of the day pressing down on my shoulders like chains. My head pounded with everything that had happened, and for a brief moment I couldn’t even recall where Mia was. Then it struck me—she wasn’t at home.

Normally, her absence wouldn’t gnaw at me this much. I’d always been the type to keep my distance, to bury myself in work and power plays rather than the fragile warmth she tried to offer. But tonight… tonight my mind kept circling back to her. Why couldn’t I shake her face out of my head? Her tears. Her trembling voice. Her pain.

I exhaled sharply . I needed air. Needed silence. Needed to cool my head before I lost it completely.

That was when I noticed a faint glow cutting through the corridor darkness. Light. Coming from the company’s main office. My eyes narrowed. At this hour? Only one person would dare linger here.

Darren.

I pushed the door open, slow but steady, and the hinges gave a tired creak.

“Darren…” my voice cut through the quiet.

He jerked in his seat, like a thief caught red-handed. My gaze caught the quick motion of his hands—sliding a folder, no, a document, under a stack of papers. Too quick. Too deliberate. I didn’t see what it was, but the way he moved… he didn’t want me seeing it.

He looked up, forced calm plastered on his face. “Kael.”

I stepped further in, my eyes never leaving his. “What are you doing here this late?”

He smoothed down his sleeves, leaning back in his chair, but I noticed the tension in his jaw. He was careful—too careful. “I was just… checking on a few things. And about to check on you.”

I tilted my head, suspicion gnawing at me. “Check on me?"

His eyes flickered but he didn’t answer. He only adjusted the pile on his desk, making sure the hidden paper was completely out of view.

I crossed my arms over my chest, my voice low and sharp. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? About what my son did.”

His face stilled. “Kael—”

“He killed someone, Darren.”

Darren’s eyes widened like I’d just detonated a bomb right in his office. He stared at me, frozen, his lips parting but no words coming out at first. Then he finally spoke, voice low, strained with disbelief.

“That’s absurd,” he muttered, shaking his head hard. “How on earth could a weak boy like him possibly kill someone? No… something’s wrong somewhere.”

I studied him closely, but there wasn’t a shred of mockery in his voice—he was genuinely rattled. He pressed a hand to his mouth, still shaking his head.

“Where is the boy presently?” he asked, almost like he couldn’t believe he was even asking it.

“With Special Force,” I answered flatly.

The words seemed to hang heavy between us, heavier than anything else I’d said tonight. Darren leaned back in his chair, his knuckles pressing into the desk. His brows furrowed so deep it was like he was staring into some void. Then, all at once, he let out a breath and forced a tight smile.

“Kael,” he said, standing, “we should go out for a drink.”

At first, I wanted to refuse. My chest was still burning with questions, my head still screaming with Mia’s voice, the police, that woman’s grief—but what good would staying here do? My thoughts were clawing at my skull, and maybe, just maybe, a drink could quiet them for a moment.

I didn’t argue. I just nodded, the weight in me too heavy to resist.

Not long after, we were walking side by side under the dim glow of the streetlamps. The city buzzed faintly in the distance, but I barely heard it. My mind kept circling back to my boy—my son—and the impossible accusation tied to his name.

The bar wasn’t far. Warm lights spilled through the windows, and the muffled hum of conversation and clinking glasses met us at the door. Darren led us inside, and soon enough we were seated in a quiet corner, two glasses set before us.

The amber liquid swirled under the low light as Darren poured for both of us. His hands were steady, practiced, as though this wasn’t his first time drowning demons in a bottle.

As he tipped the glass toward mine, he said, “Do you still remember the day your father brought me home?”

I gave a dry chuckle, lifting my glass. “Yes. I remember. How could I forget? You looked so weird and funny that night. Like a stray cat my father decided to drag in.”

A faint smirk tugged at my lips, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

Darren didn’t laugh. He just studied me across the rim of his glass, his expression unreadable. He set his drink down carefully. “Do you know what I first felt when I saw you that night?”

I paused, my glass halfway to my lips. My eyes narrowed at him. “What?”