"Bad words?" Oliver tilted his head curiously.
"Yes, yes, buddy. Very bad. So never repeat those words."
Oliver frowned, unconvinced. "But Uncle, you also said that. If you said those words, they must be good words, right?"
Axel almost choked on air. His son's innocent logic was both hilarious and dangerous. He quickly reached out, turning off the speaker before Oscar could dig himself into an even deeper hole.
Then, he leaned closer to Oliver, and their eyes met. Softened his tone as he said, "Oliver, can you wait in your room for a little while? Daddy needs to talk to Uncle Oscar."
Oliver nodded obediently and hopped off the sofa, milk still in hand.
Once the bedroom door clicked shut, the gentleness in Axel's eyes vanished. His expression darkened, and his whole presence shifted like a storm gathering over the ocean.
He rose from the sofa and walked to the wide glass window, phone pressed firmly to his ear.
