CEO loves me with all his soul.-Chapter 140. 38 years ago.

The Forest at Rhenwood Lake

The wind howled like something alive, slipping between towering trees and dragging thick mist through the forest. Pines swayed and groaned under the weight of the approaching storm, and the air smelled of damp earth and coming rain.

Cain Sebanil adjusted the strap of his duffel bag and exhaled a slow breath, watching it cloud in the cold air. The trail he followed had long since vanished into wet leaves and scattered stones, but he knew this land well. The old family cabin was less than two kilometers ahead.

He was only twenty-four at the time. Tall, broad-shouldered, with windswept black hair and dark eyes like obsidian. He was used to walking alone — preferred it, even. Being part of a prestigious family had its weight, and solitude was often easier than politics. Out here, no one needed him to smile or strategize.

Just trees. Quiet. And peace.

Or so he thought.

Because that was the day he found him.

At first, Cain thought it was an injured deer. There had been movement just off the trail, something staggering through the underbrush with unnatural rhythm.

He slowed. Crouched.

A branch snapped.

And then the figure emerged from the fog.

Human. Barefoot. Bleeding.

Cain’s heart jolted as his eyes locked on the stranger stumbling into view — a young man, maybe around eighteen or nineteen, dressed in what had once been a hospital gown but was now torn and soaked with blood.

The stranger’s long, tangled blonde hair clung to his face, and those silver eyes — wide, terrified, unfocused — met Cain’s with a jolt of desperation.

Then the boy collapsed.

Cain ran to him instantly, catching him before he hit the ground.

"Hey—hey, stay with me," Cain said, slipping an arm beneath the man’s back.

The blonde trembled violently, his whole body shaking as if caught in a fever or shock.

"Please," the boy whispered. "Don’t let them find me. Please don’t—"

Cain pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around the frail figure, feeling how cold his skin was. "You’re safe now," he said. "I won’t let anyone hurt you."

The boy blinked, as if not understanding the words — or not daring to believe them.

Cain hoisted him up, carefully, cradling him in his arms.

"You’re going to be okay," he said, more to himself than the boy.

He started walking.

.

.

The cabin was small but sturdy — a single floor nestled between pine trees, with thick wooden walls and a fireplace that Cain hurriedly lit as soon as they entered. He laid the boy down on the couch, stripped off the bloodied hospital gown, and did his best to clean the wounds.

None were deep. Most of the blood wasn’t even his.

But the boy flinched at every touch.

Cain moved slowly, whispering softly as he worked. "I’m not going to hurt you."

The boy’s eyes stayed open the entire time — enormous silver moons filled with fear.

"Do you have a name?" Cain asked, kneeling beside him with a wet cloth.

The boy didn’t answer.

"Do you know who hurt you?"

Nothing.

"Can you talk?"

Still silence. But Cain didn’t press. He just kept the room warm, the fire lit, and sat nearby all night, watching over him.

At one point, the boy bolted upright in his sleep with a cry, drenched in sweat. Cain caught him before he could fall off the couch, whispering soft reassurances as the stranger buried his face into Cain’s chest.

And for the rest of the night — shaking like a frightened child — the boy clung to him.

.

.

Three days passed. Then four.

The stranger — Cain had taken to calling him "silver eyes" in his thoughts — didn’t speak. He refused to eat at first, refused to sleep unless Cain was within reach.

Cain didn’t push him. He cooked simple meals, left them near the bed. He stayed up late, reading books by the fire just in case the boy stirred.

And slowly... something changed.

Silver eyes began to watch him. Not with fear. With curiosity.

On the fifth day, when Cain returned from chopping wood, he found the boy sitting upright at the table, wrapped in a blanket and staring at the fire.

Cain froze in the doorway, stunned.

The boy looked over.

Their eyes met again — no longer full of panic.

"Hi," Cain said softly. "You hungry?"

The boy didn’t answer.

But this time, he didn’t flinch when Cain sat down.

Later that night, Cain cooked again — vegetable stew with soft bread — and to his astonishment, the boy took a few small bites.

Progress.

.

.

It was on the seventh night that he finally spoke.

Cain was tossing another log into the fire when he heard the softest voice behind him.

"Jesper."

He turned around. "What?"

The boy sat on the couch, hands in his lap. "My name. Jesper."

Cain’s heart lifted in his chest.

"That’s a good name," he said gently. "Thank you for telling me."

Jesper looked down. "Is this... your home?"

"My family’s cabin," Cain said, sitting beside him. "It’s mine when I need it. But I haven’t used it in years."

Jesper was quiet for a while. Then:

"Why did you help me?"

Cain blinked. "Because you needed help."

"I could’ve been dangerous."

Cain looked at him, and his voice dropped into something warm and true. "You didn’t look dangerous. You looked scared. You looked... lost."

Jesper’s lips trembled.

Cain reached over, slowly, and touched Jesper’s hand.

The boy didn’t pull away.

.

.

It wasn’t just Jesper’s beauty — though he was ethereal in the firelight, his long hair brushed behind one ear, silver eyes reflecting the flames like starlight. It was the way he seemed to exist like a ghost in his own skin, always one heartbeat away from vanishing.

Cain was drawn to him not because he was fragile, but because there was something extraordinary hidden beneath that fear. A quiet strength. A will to survive. A mystery waiting to be unraveled.

And Cain — strong, reliable, practical — had never felt so pulled to another person in his life.

"You’re safe here," Cain said one night as they sat side by side watching snow fall.

Jesper leaned his head against Cain’s shoulder.

"Do you believe in fate?" he asked softly.

Cain thought for a moment. "I believe I was meant to find you. That counts."

Jesper smiled faintly. "Then I believe it too."

.

.

They lived quietly for a few months.

Cain didn’t ask about Jesper’s past. Jesper never offered.

But one morning, Jesper collapsed with a nosebleed and dizzy spells. Cain rushed him to a doctor he trusted, and what came back stunned them both.

Jesper was pregnant.

"I didn’t know this was possible," Jesper whispered, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

Cain took his hand.

"I don’t care how it’s possible," he said fiercely. "I’m with you. We’ll face it together."

Jesper wept that night — tears of relief and fear tangled together. Cain held him close.

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