Chapter 1A Mother's Erasure

The moment he saw me, the word escaped his lips: "Mom!"

But he was still just as eager to learn.

My husband, Jason, is one of the nation’s leading pharmaceutical magnates.

The day he perfected his new drug, “Lethe Water,” my son, Damian, smiled for the first time in years. “If we give this to Mom, will she finally stop loving us?”

My husband nodded, his decision absolute.

And so, my son brought the potion to me, tricking me into drinking it.

I laughed at the bitter irony and drained the glass.

Father and son breathed a sigh of relief. At last, they could be with their idealized first love, Layla, without guilt or consequence.

But later, why did they come to me, crying, over and over again? "Do you really not love us at all anymore?"

* * *

When my son, Damian, held the cup of dark green liquid out to me, I knew. It was time. He and his father were making their move.

I didn’t take it. I just watched him, my gaze silent and heavy.

For fifteen years, I had never looked at him with such dead stillness.

I knew what was in that cup.

It was the latest creation from the labs of Vance Pharmaceuticals, my husband Jason’s company.

Its name: “Lethe.”

A simple, eloquent name for a potion that would sever the drinker’s emotional ties to their most beloved.

And I, without a doubt, loved Jason. I loved my son.

A fortune teller once told me my heart was a finely-tuned instrument, so sensitive and full of feeling that it would eventually shatter from the vibrations of love and loss.

She was right.

I walked with Jason for eighteen years, from a cramped basement lab to the gleaming corporate office.

Along the way, we had our son, Damian. I walked with him for fifteen years, from a helpless, wailing infant to the sharp, brilliant young man he was today.

They were my entire world. My love for them was instinctual, a force that flowed from the very core of my being.

But then, when Damian was eight, Jason’s unforgettable first love returned.

Layla.

She stood there, her dark hair coiled in an elegant bun, a pure white dress draping her slender frame. Her eyes smiled, her lips curved, and she gave a small, gentle wave.

"Jules, you silly goose," she'd said. "You're not as handsome as you used to be."

And just like that, Jason, a man who had already conquered his world, was conquered himself, undone by a sliver of moonlight from his past.

He had once told me he hated her, that she had chosen a future abroad over a future with him. It was I who had pulled him back from the edge of a bridge, I who had stood by him as he clawed his way out of that basement and took his seat at the head of his empire.

My son, Damian, fell for her too.

He had always been a cold child—brilliant, calm, a perfect reflection of his father. But when Layla ruffled his hair, a blush crept up his cheeks, and he shyly called her "Aunt Layla."

His "Aunt Layla" had stolen both their hearts with effortless grace.

They became an inseparable family of three, and I became the outsider, a ghost in my own home.

I fought. I screamed. I cried through entire nights, my sanity fraying at the edges.

But all they said was, “Stop acting like a madwoman. It’s embarrassing.”

Layla never called me a madwoman. Instead, she left a letter, saying she was returning my family to me. A letter she made sure to give directly to Jason.

Then, she vanished without a trace.

Her departure didn’t save my family. It shattered it completely.

Jason clutched that letter, his eyes bloodshot with rage, and called me an unreasonable harpy who had driven Layla away.

Damian, his teeth clenched, threw his school backpack at my head and swore he would never call me "Mom" again.

From that day on, the life bled out of our home.

Jason moved into an apartment at his company headquarters. For seven years, we did not share a bed.

For seven years, Damian never spoke a word to me willingly. The word "Mom" never again passed his lips.

Until now. Now, he was serving me tea.

His face was a mask of eager anticipation, waiting for me to drink the Lethe.