1 PROLOGUE

-Boom!

-Boom!!

-Boom!!!

Under the hot scorching sun, in one of the many suburbs of the famous city, Milan.

A young man, brown skin, lean muscles, in a white; sweat-soaked, dirt-stained singlet and worn-out blue jeans, with a long sledgehammer in his hands, focused on hitting the half-broken wall in front of him…

"Hmm!"

He produced a loud grunt as he raised the hammer once again and sent it at the wall for the umpteenth time today.

The sledgehammer made contact with the wall and broke a large piece off of it.

Due to the force from the coalition of the sledgehammer and wall, debris from the broken wall flew randomly, hitting the ground and the young man that was causing this destruction.

Some of the debris made contact with the safety goggles he had on. A bit of it got on his hair, making him pause just so he could brush the dirt that was on his hair now.

His chest went up and down as he breathed heavily.

"Noah!" The young man heard his name being called by an all-too-familiar voice. A voice that couldn't hide its thick French accent in it.

Responding to the call, he placed the sledgehammer on the floor and turned to face the person that called him.

Seated on the floor a few yards away from where Noah was standing, was Mr. Hugo, a bald-head man in his late-thirties and little stubbles on his thick chin. He had thick muscles and was quite hairy.

Hugo was wearing a sleeveless red and black striped shirt, and a pair of brown trousers, coupled with old worn-out safety boots.

"Yes, Mr. Hugo?" Noah answered with a deep, natural, and clear voice.

"You should take a break, boy. You are making the rest of us old men look like we are slacking off, por favor, rest. Take a breather." Mr. Hugo stated with a pained expression as he looked at the hard-working Noah.

Noah shifted his gaze from Mr. Hugo and glanced at the rest of the laborers that were seated and taking a break too.

All of them had placed their tools down and now, some of them had a sandwich in their hands and some, a burger with a soda by the side to wash the food down their throats.

They all looked at him like he was some kind of anomaly.

Well, he couldn't and wouldn't blame them, they all started work together and a few hours later, they were all tired, except for him.

While they were resting, he was still working like he had an energy reserve in him.

"Come sit here boy." Mr. Hugo moved a bit and made space for Noah to sit beside him.

"Thanks, Mr. Hugo, but I forgot my lunch at home. I should continue and try to cover for my Father's absence today." Noah smiled as he kindly rejected Hugo's offer.

"Don't worry about that, I always bring extra lunch with me." Hugo insisted and tapped the spot next to him.

"Come and take a seat here. You don't have any excuse or reason to reject my offer. We will help you cover for your dad, isn't that right guys?"

"Yeah!!" The others that were there chorused with a proud smile on their faces.

Although the majority of them here were either in their 30s or were already fathers, they all had genuine respect for Noah. He was the youngest laborer in their group and he always earned his keep.

They felt pity for Noah, a young man at the age of 19 wasn't meant to be working his ass off here in the construction site, he was meant to be preparing for his future, getting ready to attend a university of his choice. Yet, here he was, with them – old men.

Most of the workers already painted a picture of a Noah in their heads, a good boy with respectable values…

Noah sighed and let his hammer drop to the ground. Reluctantly, he agreed to join Mr. Hugo.

"That's it, don't overwork yourself." Mr. Hugo uttered when he saw Noah approach him. He quickly brought a sandwich out of his lunchbox and then a bottle of coke, handing them to Noah when he was within his reach.

"Thank you." Noah, despite feeling reluctant, was grateful for the food.

He removed his gloves before unwrapping the sandwich and taking a big bite out of it…

"I wish I had a filial son like you, Noah. You, my boy, are a role model that other kids your age should try to follow." Another man with a thick French accent spoke. He was sitting next to Noah too.

'Filial to my father, me? Bullshit. If I wasn't getting paid to do his work too, I wouldn't do shit for that godforsaken man.'

Noah thought as he chewed on the sandwich, enjoying the taste of the bread mixed with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. He picked the coke up and drank quite a bit of it.

"Very true, but unfortunately this is the internet age. Every opinion matters, even if they are fucked up." Mr. Hugo added. "But you, my friend, you are… how should I say this, magnificento. That is the right pronunciation, si?"

"Hahaha, Hugo! It is pronounced magnificent!!" His friends began laughing at him.

"It is the English man's language, not mine," Hugo mentioned in his defense, returning his attention to the sandwich in his hand.

"Don't be like us in the future Noah, you are strong, smart, and talented. Just keep on being the good guy that you are and in the future good things will come to you." Mr. Hugo encouraged and placed a hand on Noah's shoulder.

Noah, who was seemingly focusing on finishing the sandwich quickly, turned and looked at Mr. Hugo, wearing a blank expression. He wanted to make sure that he wasn't making fun of him.

'I am many things, but not this good guy that you guys are talking about, I am not a saint.' Noah thought as he took another bite from his sandwich.

'Who knows, I might be leaning towards the devil's teaching… Nah, mom wouldn't like that.

Perhaps it is because I have no reason to treat these guys with disrespect hence the good boy title. I stopped being that good boy years ago after I realized that life is like a hockey stick, you will feel pain when it hits you.'

He started to recall his past, 15 years back…

Noah Martins, a Nigerian born in Milan, Italy. His biological father was Nigerian and his mother was a French woman.

At the young tender age of 4, he watched his parents die in a car accident before they had the chance to pick him up from school. And no they weren't driving, they didn't even own a car yet, but they were hit by an expensive Rolls Royce.

The car hit and ran over them, crushing their ribs with its weight and tires. His father lost consciousness and his mother was convulsing on the road.

He couldn't even shout or move when he saw that happen. At his age, he understood that if you get hit by a car, there was a probability of dying if the person wasn't attended to quickly by doctors.

Noah was well aware of that fact, but the sudden pool of blood that had surfaced, his parents being the source, paralyzed him. It was the first time that he saw that much blood.

Noah could remember what the car looked like and the plate number, it was one of a kind. The owner of the car didn't care to stop, the person just continued down the road as if nothing had happened.

A kid at the age of 4 didn't know what to do at that moment, a minute had passed before anyone cared to call for an ambulance. Noah didn't even know when tears had started to gush out of his eyes.

He tried to take a step forward but his legs kept on shaking, "Mo… mo… mom." Noah's cry came out as a whisper, stuttering as he struggled to say something.

-Tap!

Finally, he was able to take a step forward, dropping his school bag by the side of the road. By this time, a lot of people had already gathered around his dying parents.

"Mom!!" He forced out his choking lungs and picked his pace up.

Tears streamed down his face, endlessly as he approached his parents.

"Dad!!!"

Noah cried out as he forced his way through the crowd of people that formed around his parents.

"Dad!! Mom!!" Not caring about anything but reaching his parents, Noah pushed on. Soon he arrived beside his parents and fell to his knees.

His trousers got soaked with the blood of his parents.

"Wake up, mom. Please wake up, please. If you wake up, I promise to eat my vegetables. I'll study when you ask me to, I'll do anything you ask me to without complaining. Wake up, mommy please, you are scaring me." He cried as he placed his head on his dying mother's chest.

Noah cried so hard that he didn't even hear the sound of the siren when the Ambulance arrived.

"Make way!! Make way."

The paramedics arrived with two stretchers and picked his parents up, rushing them to the ambulance…