Chapter 3The Bastard’s Price

His words were just noise. I couldn’t hear them.

My eyes were fixed on the shattered porcelain on the floor.

I scrambled over like a madwoman, gathering the sharp fragments, not even feeling the slices as they opened up my fingers, drawing blood.

Those three figures were Leo’s favorite things in the world. Anthony and I had made them for him on his third birthday. He’d said they represented us—a family of three, happy forever.

Now, my son was gone. The figurine was broken.

My family was shattered.

The dam of my grief, the pain I had held back for days, finally burst. Cradling the broken pieces to my chest, I began to sob, a deep, hysterical wailing that came from the very core of my soul.

Anthony stared at me, baffled. “What is wrong with you today, Elara? Are you possessed?”

Cathy stepped forward, her voice dripping with false concern. “Oh, dear. Did something happen to upset you?”

“Just leave her,” Anthony said, wrapping an arm around Cathy’s shoulders, his eyes cold and distant. “If she wants to cry, let her cry it out.”

He then led his new family upstairs, leaving me alone on the floor.

I stared at the bloody shards in my hands, the pain in my heart a monstrous wave pulling me under. After a long, silent moment, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.

“Hello… I need to report a crime.”