Lance had just finished inspecting the weapons and illegal goods in his mafia hideout. His hands were slightly scratched from handling sharp objects, but he barely noticed. His subordinates were busy with their tasks, and Rocco, one of his men, approached him. “Boss, everything’s ready. Just waiting for the right time,” Rocco reported. Lance nodded, responding curtly, “Good. Make sure everyone’s on time. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

Satisfied with the preparations, Lance made his way to his car, leaving the bustling hideout behind. The streets were eerily quiet as he drove, the occasional flicker of streetlights illuminating the wet asphalt. As he turned onto a quieter road, he noticed a small figure sitting alone on a park bench—a child, barely visible behind a large teddy bear. Something about the scene stirred a memory of his own troubled past.

Slowing the car, Lance pulled over and stepped out. He approached the child cautiously, not wanting to scare them. “Hey, you okay?” he asked softly. The child didn’t respond at first, clutching the teddy bear tighter. Lance tried again, “Why are you out here all alone?” After a pause, the child began to speak, revealing a painful story of abandonment by their aunt and uncle. Lance felt a surge of anger towards those who had left the child in such a state.

“That’s enough,” Lance said, more to himself, as he crouched to the child’s level. “You’re not alone anymore. I’ll take care of you.” The child looked at him with a mix of doubt and hope before tentatively reaching out. Lance gently lifted the child, carrying them to his car.

As they drove, the weight of responsibility settled on Lance. But for the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of purpose. Glancing at the child through the rearview mirror, he said, “From now on, you can call me Daddy.” The child nodded, and a faint smile appeared. The silence of the night was no longer daunting—it was filled with promise.