Chapter 1The Bastard’s Price

Anthony Johnson’s prized songbird bore twins—a secret he guarded fiercely. Until I stole them away.

In retaliation, he strung up our son Leo by his ankles from the penthouse balcony, leaving him to roast in the midday sun.

When I arrived, Leo’s face was scarlet, lips split and bleeding. His weak whimpers tore at my soul.

“Isn’t Leo your son too?” I screamed.

“And aren’t Cathy’s children mine?” Anthony snarled, pressing a stun gun to Leo’s ribs. “Tell me where they are, or I’ll make him beg for death.”

Leo’s shrieks pierced the air as volts racked his small frame.

Broken, I gasped the location: “The villa… outside the city.”

Anthony fled—but returned too late.

Our son had baked to death in the sun.

* * *

I clutched Leo’s limp body to my chest and raced to the hospital, a storm of denial and despair raging within me.

Outside the emergency room, the doctor delivered the verdict with a heavy sigh. “You were too late. The boy was already running a high fever. Being exposed to that sun for so long… the dehydration caused total organ failure. Not even a miracle could have saved him.”

I couldn’t accept it. A gut-wrenching sob tore from my throat, raw and animalistic.

Just yesterday, he was a vibrant, laughing whirlwind of a boy. How could he be gone, ripped away from me in a single, cruel day?

I had only meant to use those twins as leverage against Anthony. I never, ever imagined it would cost me my Leo.

In that moment, a tidal wave of regret, so vast and powerful, consumed me whole.

After making the final arrangements for my son, I was a ghost. Grief had hollowed me out, stealing my appetite, my strength, my will to move. I lay in bed, day after day, adrift in a sea of sorrow.

It was three days before Anthony came home.

He found me in bed and marched to my side, his expression a cold, hard slab of stone. “Because of what you did, my twins were traumatized. They’ve had a fever for three straight days, waking up from nightmares every night! They’re only three, Elara. How could you subject them to such terror?”

Three?

My Leo was only five. What about the terror he endured?

A bitter fury rose in my throat, but my voice was a shredded ruin. I could only glare at him, my silence a testament to my hate.

“Fortunately, Cathy is a forgiving woman. She’s willing to let this go. But you can’t be so reckless and jealous next time,” he said, his tone softening slightly as he placed a gift-wrapped box on the nightstand. “Leo’s at school, I assume? Tying him up like that… it was a last resort. I was just trying to scare you, not hurt him. He’s a tough little guy; he can handle it.”

He paused. “This is a present for him. Give it to him when he gets home from kindergarten. I have to get back to Cathy and the kids, so I can’t stay.”

And with that, he turned and walked out.

I stared at the brightly colored box, a sharp, physical pain blooming in my chest, stealing my breath.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that my Leo was never coming home again.

With a surge of venomous energy, I pushed myself up. A guttural scream escaped my lips as I swiped the gift off the table, sending it crashing to the floor, a meaningless, hollow offering.