An hour later, Damir returned home—only to find even more chaos than at work. Loud voices filled the house—heated arguments in Persian. He saw his father—furious like a wild beast—arguing with his wife. She was defending her biological son. They were yelling at each other. Zulfiya and Aaliya sat huddled on the couch, frightened and confused.

“I didn’t take your money,” Damir said from the doorway. His father’s furious gaze met his—but Damir didn’t look away.

“It’s not about the money!” Omer said in a low but firm voice.

“I would’ve given it all to you.”

“I never took a single cent without your knowledge—believe it or not.”

“Come with me,” Omer ordered, heading into his office. Damir followed him. Omer grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and tossed it at him. It didn’t land properly—falling to the floor at Damir’s feet.

He looked at his father, then silently bent down and picked it up.

“Recognize it?” Omer asked, on the verge of shouting.

“I recognize my name. What is it?”

“What kind of lawyer are you if you don’t know what this is?!”

“I understand—it’s a bank statement…”

The words hit him like a knife. He looked again at the document. The final balance, along with regular deposits—$1,457,880.

“What the…?”

“Not a bad sum, huh?”

“Trace it—find out how the account was opened and where the funds came from!”

Damir shouted, waving the document. “I’ve never opened any account like this in my life!”

“Samad handles those things,” Omer said, turning to the window.

“Samad?!” Damir scoffed bitterly.

This time, Omer spun around and stormed back toward him. Pointing a finger at his chest, he growled, “Don’t you dare accuse him! He may not be my blood, but he has never done anything that would make us ashamed—not once! And as for my real son—well, we both know exactly what he’s capable of!”

That was it.

The feeling of happiness from reuniting with his biological family, from having his father back in his life—it all began to shatter like fragile crystal. He hadn't even fully processed what he'd become, hadn't yet tasted the new life—and once again, he was being pushed away. From the very start, he felt it would all end like this. So why had he tried so hard to convince himself otherwise?

It doesn’t matter who you were born as. What matters is your purpose in this life. Those born to crawl may never fly… or maybe they can. And those who once soared high can end up at the bottom of a pit—so deep, their past flights feel like nothing but illusions.

And reality?

Reality is right here.

Early in the morning, Damir received a call from Russia. It was his former classmate and once-best friend, Vadim. The surprise thrilled him. Vadim was the only person Damir truly trusted in this entire world—and now, during the worst moment of his life, Vadim had called him.

“Hey, brother! I finally found you! I heard you got married and ran off to Canada?” Vadim said, laughing.

“Sorry, bro, it all happened so fast,” Damir rubbed his forehead, feeling genuinely uncomfortable.

“When I explain everything, you’ll understand why I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s all good. So, when are you coming back?”

“Soon. Vadim, I’m in a really messed-up situation right now, and your call came at the perfect time. I need advice—or even legal help.”

“You’re a lawyer yourself.”

“Apparently, not a very good one,” Damir replied bitterly.

“Do you need someone who specializes in Canadian immigration law, or did you get yourself into some kind of criminal mess?”

“Looks like the second one.”

There was a long pause. Then Vadim spoke again.