Ghost of London
Prologue
London was drowning.
Rain hammered against the ancient streets, turning alleyways into rivers and neon lights into blurred smears of color. The city moved on regardless, indifferent to the cold, indifferent to the suffering hidden between its glittering towers.
In one forgotten alley of Chinatown, a child waited to die.
He was ten years old.
Hungry.
Bruised.
Alone.
His body had long since stopped trembling from the cold. His stomach had forgotten what fullness felt like. Every breath burned his lungs, every step felt heavier than the last.
Yet he refused to beg.
Refused to cry.
Refused to surrender.
When a luxury car stopped nearby, the boy's first instinct wasn't hope.
It was hostility.
Because kindness had never been something life offered freely.
The teenager who stepped out of that car looked like he belonged in another world entirely.
Perfect clothes.
Perfect posture.
Perfect life.
A prince standing in the middle of a storm.
The boy hated him immediately.
The teenager should have ignored him.
Should have walked away.
Should have left him to disappear into the rain like everyone else.
Instead, he stayed.
One stubborn argument became two.
Then three.
Until the exhausted child finally collapsed.
What neither of them knew was that this chance encounter would alter the course of both their lives.
One was a nameless ghost with no past.
The other was the heir to one of the most powerful corporate empires in the world.
One had nothing.
The other had everything except freedom.
Together, they would become each other's greatest weakness.
And eventually...
Each other's family.
