Bram let him live in his mansion for some time. He should have cast the idiot away, pregnant or not. However, Nuit has potential, even if he could not deny. The fool had protested to terminate his pregnancy, but Bram had other plans.
His honey-slender fingers brushed against the files on his desk with a blank expression. His left eye twitched now and then as he scanned the data on his transparent computer.
"Blood visualization in progress,' He muttered in thought; however, his sight suddenly went blurry. His mind screamed at the sudden blindness, as his body trembled in panic. He reached into his pocket for his eye serum.
His eyes were now painful as blood began to pour out of them. Grabbing hold of the serum, he popped it open and took a larger gulp of its black content. His small frame trembled greatly at the pain.
The pain vanished as if it had never been there before. He snatched a few wipes to clean off the sticky, bloody liquid on his face and eyes. His sight became clear; however, it was a bit blurry from the sticky blood lingering around his eye sockets.
Bram felt both furious and disgusted at himself for acting so pathetically. He felt ashamed of himself. He counts himself lucky that no one was around to see such a revolting display of weakness.
A flaw he was born with. Something that has always reminded him of his shortcomings.
His thoughts were cut short when his communication device vibrated on his desk.
"Tan, finally,' He grinned like a madman, forgetting his recent self-loathing. "Its about time.
He accepted the call with a hint of desperation.
"The test subjects are being transferred to the lab, boss,' Tan announced with certainty.
Bram grinned like a Cheshire cat planning the downfall of the whole solar system.
Technically that's what he is doing …. unknowingly.
"I'll be there in five,' Bram snarled viciously. He was already annoyed as it is.
After hanging up the call, he calmly cleaned up the mess around him. The bloody tissues were thrown in to the eradicator waste bin.
Fixing his white coat, he picked up his cup of coffee.
He paused mid-way, noticing his coffee had gone cold. He grimaced in disgust. He moved to throw everything into the eradicator but paused.
He hadn't eaten anything since the day before. But he wasn't that hungry.
Instinctively he looked at the floor to ceiling mirror at the side. He coldly observed his body.
His anorexic condition seemed to be getting worse as he touched his sunk cheeks. He had emaciated aggressively as he noticed his skeletal figure. His original honey complexion now shows signs of fading, giving way to a paler complexion.
When last had he looked like this? Unwanted memories surfaced. The rape that almost snapped his waist in two, the confinement he experienced that drove him to the point of madness.
He blames no one for his misfortune other than himself. He thought he could expose the Bratva clan on his own. But they were rooted too deep in the celestial realm.
The unwanted images of his "beloved" husband raping him repeatedly to fulfill the so-called ritual, made him frown.
Bram ignored his ghost-looking self, as his workaholic brain snapped him back to a more pressing matter at hand.
Right now, revenge was not in his bucket list. There was no benefit in fighting the Bratva clan. Even if given the chance he would rather exploit than seek war with them. Until then, the cure comes first.
......
Misha curled up on his bed quietly. His thoughts were swirling around his head as he recalls the ordeal that occurred few days ago.
His stomach grumbled in protest. His eyes watered with urgent hunger.
Right now, he was under punishment. No food, no water. After breaking so many rules, his papa got fed up with him. The man seems to have forgotten him, even the butler has been very serious with his job by keep him in check.
He grabbed his clenching stomach and got off the bed. His white nightwear clung to his body with sweat. He hissed with every step he took as he made for the door.
With a push the door slides ajar. Misha's brain was swirling with confusion as he noticed the sudden change around him. The once gloomy hall was now looking inviting, with white curtains floating with gentle breeze, bright crestal lamps shone with magnificent, with floating flower petals scattered everywhere.
It was a sight to behold, for a moment Misha forgot his hunger.
"And who do we have here?' An icy voice penetrated the atmosphere.
Staggering out of his room, his eyes fixed on a very pale man, sitting on a wheelchair. He noticed his very bloated belly, covered in white tunic. His long black hair, that speaks of years of struggles and shrewdness, was tied in a loose bun.
In Misha's opinion, the man looks a bit like a doll. A living doll.
But his papa's heir looks completely like a doll.
"W-who are you?' Misha blinked cluelessly. Who was this man? Where did he come from? And why was he here?
"You must be Misha?' Nuit smiled gently while his tone remains rigid.
Nuit's eyes narrowed at the small trembling figure in front him. He can't believe he was actually looking at Bram's firstborn son; the lunatic sacrificed in his past life. The boy was already dead when Nuit came looking for Bram. At that time Asier was already eleven years old.
Asier had kept Misha's remains for experiment, which irritated Bram. To him as far as Misha was useless alive, he was still useless in death. Asier had ignored Bram then and Misha's issue was never mentioned again. From the data he gathered from his past life, Misha died at very young age of nine.
Nuit stared deeply at the lanky figure, trembling pitifully. This very boy would die two moons from now.
"He's cute,' Nuit muttered absentmindedly. Too bad Bram couldn't appreciate his cuteness. The ambitious bastard was busy surrounding himself with machines, codes and looking for ways to get his hands on power.
"I'm Nuit, your wonderful, powerful uncle.