Try Begging Novel - Chapter 92

“If you don’t help us, your father might go to prison. That’s a lie. Don’t say anything. The more you speak, no matter what they say, the worse it will be for your father.”

Jeffrey Sinclair would not escape the false accusation. At the very least, he wanted to prevent the boy from growing up feeling guilty that his father’s tragedy was his fault. He knew better than anyone what kind of hell that was.

“Understand? Just keep your mouth shut.”

The moment the boy pressed his lips together and nodded, someone knocked on the door.

“What is it?”

“Ah, Captain.”

The door opened, and a lieutenant under his command saluted.

“What do you want?”

“The Lieutenant Colonel asked me to bring the child.”

As the door to the Lieutenant Colonel’s interrogation room opened, the sight of the man sitting at the table came into view. Jeffrey Sinclair looked much gaunter than yesterday, as if he had been tortured in Leon’s absence.

Two sheets of paper lay on the table. One, filled with dense writing, was clearly a false confession written by someone else. Jeffrey Sinclair was trembling as he held a pen, indicating he had been forced to copy it onto the blank paper but had refused.

“Ah, Captain. You’re finally here.”

The Lieutenant Colonel, who had been spewing harsh words at Sinclair, acknowledged him. Leon saluted and stepped inside.

“While you were gone, Lieutenant Collins put in a lot of effort with the boy. You’ve taught him well.”

The lieutenant, who had followed him in, puffed out his chest at the Lieutenant Colonel’s praise and offered his thanks. He was foolish to jump into such a quagmire without knowing what he was getting into.

“Father!”

As soon as the lieutenant pushed him inside, the child ran towards his father, calling out. Jeffrey Sinclair’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t known the military had reached out to his son.

“Sam, why, why are you here….”

As he asked, embracing his son with trembling hands, the child burst into tears.

“Father, let’s go home. I don’t like it here, it’s scary. Sniff, I want to go home.”

The child, who had bravely endured trembling before the soldiers, crumbled the moment he saw his father. Leon let out a short, weary sigh.

Perhaps he was asking too much of a 10-year-old child. But crying and whining to go home like a child should have been done to the soldiers. Crying here would only shake his father, who was already on the brink.

Sure enough. Jeffrey Sinclair, whose will was not as firm as expected, also collapsed with his son.

“I will do as you say, just send my child away.”

The Lieutenant Colonel’s strategy of threatening with the young son was effective.

Utterly disgusting. This place will run perfectly well without me.

The Lieutenant Colonel, who had been watching the man transcribe the false confession with a satisfied expression, placed a hand on the child’s shoulder.

“Sam, was it? Your father is busy now, so let’s play with this uncle. Shall we go see the puppies in the headquarters backyard?”

Jeffrey Sinclair’s hand began to tremble even more. There couldn’t possibly be puppies at headquarters. The man had realized he was talking about military dogs.

“W-wait…”

The man grabbed the child’s hand and looked up imploringly at Leon, not the Lieutenant Colonel, with tear-filled eyes. It seemed that with the others’ extreme cruelty, Leon Winston, the devil, appeared as an angel.

“The Lieutenant Colonel can stay here. I will keep him.”

“You need to sign.”

The Lieutenant Colonel flatly rejected Leon’s proposal and then warned the man.

“Mr. Sinclair, please calmly finish what you were doing. As soon as the report is submitted that you’ve finished, the child will be safely sent home.”

The Lieutenant Colonel took the child and left. In the hushed silence, only the frantic scratching of the pen on paper continued.

Leon leaned against the wall, watching the man. To sacrifice his freedom, and perhaps even his life, for his son. Was it always like this when children were involved? It was an emotion he couldn’t comprehend.

Freedom, and perhaps even life…

Suddenly, Leon walked out and headed for the Commander’s office.

“What is it this time?”

Naturally, the Commander was not pleased to see him.

“I have some questions regarding the Sinclair matter.”

The Commander sighed, setting down the pen he had been holding.

“Captain, there are limits to what I can do.”

“I understand that well.”

The Commander was a card to protect her. He had no intention of wasting him on someone else’s affairs.

No matter how influential a figure with royal connections, making him an enemy of the King over this matter would render him useless when truly needed.

Leon directly questioned the Commander, whose eyes sharpened as if his pride had been wounded by the remark about knowing his limits.

“Has Jeffrey Sinclair’s punishment already been decided?”

The Commander did not bother to deny the assumption that the level of punishment had also been determined from above.

“He knows this is a risky move.”

Then he shouldn’t have allowed it.

“So, it won’t go as far as execution. He’ll be imprisoned in a detention center and mercifully pardoned when the time is right.”

The Commander, perhaps not entirely in agreement with the situation, emphasized ‘mercifully’ and scoffed.

“Ah, of course, his assets will be confiscated. They will be considered wealth acquired through illegal activities.”

Were they planning to use money extorted from a rival to lobby for bids?

It was the epitome of ugliness.

As soon as he got the answer he wanted, Leon returned to the interrogation room. Jeffrey Sinclair had quickly finished transcribing. The man, who had seemed quite resolute, choked back sobs as he signed, unable to contain his surging resentment.

“It’s your turn to sign, Captain.”

Lieutenant Collins snatched the confession and turned it towards Leon. Below Jeffrey Sinclair’s signature, the space for the Head of Domestic Intelligence awaited him.

“All we need is one confession, his signature, and your signature. That’s all. Easy, isn’t it?”

Yes, easy.

Sacrificing me would be easy.

His intuition told him. Someday, everything would be exposed.

Leon gazed at the innocent victim’s signature. One rounded, scrawled letter resembled a noose.

When the world learned the truth, whose neck would be caught in that noose?