/His POV/

At the mere age of eight, I crept down the hallway, avoiding the creaks in the flooring. Growing up in the packhouse, I knew every nook and corner like the back of my hand. The door was creaked open so I leaned against the nearest wall beside the room, eavesdropping on the conversation for a few minutes at first.

There was only the sound of my father and an unfamiliar man's voice conversing in a hushed voice which didn't really surprise me. After all, it's supposed to be a business meeting. My father asked me to stay in my room until they were done with the meeting.

I...