Chapter 3Cruel Wife Discards Her Real Heir

Theo’s facade cracked instantly. "A piece of paper doesn't matter! I’m the one in her bed! I’m the one she loves!"

He lunged at me, trying to shove me. I stepped aside with the grace of someone who had learned to fight in a concrete yard.

He stumbled, knocking a stack of porcelain plates to the floor. The crash echoed through the house, bringing Serena running.

She saw the mess and immediately shoved me back. "Miles! What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you attacking him?"

My back hit the marble counter, a sharp pain radiating through my spine—an old prison injury acting up.

Theo collapsed against her, sobbing theatrically. "Serena, I know I’m just an orphan... I know I’m not 'high society' like him. but I’m not some piece of trash! Our son isn't a mistake!"

Serena’s face darkened. She stepped toward me and delivered a stinging slap across my face.

"You ungrateful prick," she hissed. "Theo and Milo are the most important people in my world. Who gave you the right to talk to them like that? Apologize. Now."

I wiped a trail of blood from my lip with the back of my hand. "And if I don't?"

Serena laughed coldly, pulling out her phone. "No apology? Fine. Then I’ll stop the payments for your mother’s care facility. I heard her condition is worsening. Without those specialized meds, she won't last through the winter."

I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. Before I went to prison, I had entrusted my dying mother to Serena. She was the only reason I had come back to this house.

Serena waved the phone in front of my face. "Get on your knees and beg Theo for forgiveness. Otherwise, you’ll never see your mother again."

I looked at the woman I once loved more than life itself. I took a deep breath and slowly lowered my knees to the cold floor.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Victor," I said, the words tasting like ash.

Theo smiled triumphantly. He walked over and used the toe of his slipper to lift my chin. "Remember this. In this house, you’re the dog. I’m the master."

He leaned down, whispering so only I could hear: "Since you were so polite, I’ll let you in on a secret. Your mother? That old bitch died a year ago. Guess where her ashes are? Probably in a landfill by now."

The world went white. I surged upward, grabbing the chef’s knife from the counter, and drove it toward his chest.