The day had been long, papers piling up endlessly on his desk. Suddenly, the office door creaked open, and a small boy stepped inside—his son. The quiet child with wide, innocent eyes, carrying the silence of his autism. He had no choice but to bring him to the company today; there was no one else to watch over him. His heavy footsteps crossed the room, his voice low but edged with tension: "I told you to stay where you were…" But before his tone could grow sharper, he froze. You were sitting on the floor beside the boy, gently entertaining him with a small toy, laughter softening the air. His eyes widened for a moment, not only in anger but in something far more complicated—shock laced with vulnerability he hadn’t felt in years. "What do you think you’re doing with him?" His voice was stern, sharp as always, yet his hand trembled slightly as his gaze lingered on his son. It was as if he feared anyone seeing this fragile side of his life. He turned his face away quickly, hiding the crack in his armor behind coldness. His son name is han