Chapter 5 – The Blackwood Family

Morning sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

For the first time in years...

The intensive care suite felt less like a hospital room and more like a family gathering.

Adrian sat upright against the bed, a blanket draped over his legs.

His complexion was still pale, but the lifelessness from yesterday had disappeared.

A nurse checked his blood pressure before smiling.

"Everything is stable, Young Master."

"Thank you."

She blinked in surprise.

Even after years of caring for him, hearing Adrian speak so clearly felt unfamiliar.

She quietly left the room.

Not long after, the door opened.

Evelyn entered first, carrying a tray herself.

Not a nurse.

Not a servant.

She had cooked every dish with her own hands.

Porridge.

Fresh fruit.

Toast.

A small cup of warm tea.

Behind her came Vincent, Alexander, Lucas, and Charlotte.

The room suddenly became crowded.

Lucas grinned.

"I knew you'd survive."

Charlotte folded her arms.

"You cried yesterday."

"I didn't."

"You punched a wall hard enough to need stitches."

"...That doesn't count."

Alexander sighed.

"You embarrassed yourself."

Lucas glared.

"Whose fault was that?"

Before another argument could begin—

"Enough."

Vincent spoke only one word.

The room instantly became quiet.

He looked at Adrian.

"How do you feel?"

Adrian answered honestly.

"Hungry."

For a brief second...

No one spoke.

Then Lucas burst into laughter.

Charlotte smiled.

Even Alexander couldn't suppress a chuckle.

Evelyn immediately pushed the tray closer.

"I knew it."

"I made your favorites."

"You need to eat slowly."

"No coffee."

"No sweets."

"And absolutely no spicy food."

Lucas whispered dramatically,

"Mother has started."

Charlotte elbowed him.

"Be quiet."

Adrian looked at the tray.

His memories told him these meals had appeared countless times over eighteen years.

His mother never trusted hospital food.

She always cooked herself.

He picked up the spoon.

One bite.

Warm.

Simple.

He looked at Evelyn.

"...Good."

Her eyes instantly became moist.

"You really like it?"

He nodded once.

"It's good."

That was enough.

She smiled brighter than she had in days.

Vincent quietly watched the scene.

He had attended meetings with presidents without changing his expression.

Yet seeing his youngest son eat breakfast peacefully...

Made him feel more relieved than closing any billion-dollar deal.

...

Half an hour later...

The family remained chatting.

Or rather...

Everyone else chatted.

Adrian mostly listened.

Lucas complained about losing a golf tournament.

Charlotte answered business calls while simultaneously arguing with Lucas.

Alexander corrected both of them whenever they exaggerated.

Evelyn occasionally reminded everyone to lower their voices because Adrian needed rest.

Vincent read several documents while silently listening to all of them.

The atmosphere...

Was ordinary.

Comfortable.

Messy.

Nothing like the perfect image magazines painted of the Blackwood family.

Adrian quietly observed each person.

Charlotte interrupted a meeting just to ask whether he wanted more tea.

Lucas peeled fruit because he claimed nurses cut it "too slowly."

Alexander adjusted Adrian's blanket without saying a word.

Vincent never spoke much, but every few minutes his eyes naturally drifted toward Adrian, checking whether he looked tired.

Interesting...

None of them appeared to be pretending.

People usually wanted something.

Money.

Power.

Recognition.

These people...

Expected nothing from him.

...

A soft knock interrupted the room.

A middle-aged man entered.

Silver hair.

Perfect posture.

White gloves.

"Good morning, Madam. Sir."

Everyone nodded politely.

The man turned toward Adrian and bowed.

"Young Master."

"My name is Oliver Graham."

"I've served the Blackwood family for thirty-eight years."

"I've been informed you'll be returning home once the doctors approve."

"If there's anything you require, please tell me."

Adrian looked at him.

The old butler stood perfectly straight.

No unnecessary movements.

No wasted words.

His suit was immaculate.

His breathing steady.

His hands...

Covered in old scars.

Not the scars of kitchen accidents.

Nor manual labor.

Knife scars.

Gunpowder burns.

Interesting.

Oliver noticed Adrian observing his hands.

Without hesitation, he simply lowered them behind his back.

Professional.

Very professional.

Adrian made no comment.

Instead, he asked,

"How many staff work at home?"

Oliver answered immediately.

"Eighty-two permanent staff, Young Master."

"A large house."

"Yes."

Adrian nodded.

"I see."

Nothing more.

Oliver bowed once before leaving.

The conversation resumed as though nothing had happened.

Only Adrian remained thoughtful.

A billionaire's mansion requiring eighty-two permanent employees...

Possible.

A butler with military posture and combat scars...

Less common.

...

That afternoon...

The doctors insisted Adrian take a short walk.

Charlotte immediately volunteered.

"I'll go with him."

Lucas objected.

"No, I called it."

"You don't get to call walking your brother."

"I absolutely do."

Alexander sighed.

"I'll accompany him."

"No."

Everyone looked toward Vincent.

"I'll go."

Silence.

The three siblings exchanged glances.

Their father almost never had free time.

Yet today...

He had cancelled every meeting.

Vincent simply walked to Adrian's wheelchair.

"I'll push."

Adrian looked at him for a second before nodding.

The hospital gardens were quiet.

Birds sang among neatly trimmed trees.

Patients enjoyed the morning sunshine.

Several people recognized Vincent Blackwood immediately.

None dared approach.

Father and son remained silent for several minutes.

Finally...

Vincent spoke.

"You don't have to force yourself to recover quickly."

"There is no expectation."

"You can take your time."

Adrian looked ahead.

"...Why?"

Vincent seemed surprised.

"Why?"

"Why is there no expectation?"

Vincent smiled faintly.

"You've already done enough."

"You survived."

"That's all your mother and I ever wanted."

The wheelchair continued rolling along the stone path.

Adrian didn't answer.

But for the first time...

He found himself unable to understand the man behind him.

Not because Vincent was complicated.

But because...

Everything he had said appeared genuine.

And that...

Was unfamiliar.

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