Chapter 1The New York Legend

My parents’ love story was legendary in New York City.

My father had three long scars on his back from saving my mother from her father’s rage.

The Blackwood Spire, the city’s tallest skyscraper, was his wedding gift to her.

The night I was born, fireworks lit up the sky—another gift for my mother.

I was called the proof of their love.

But when I turned three, a beautiful woman moved next door. She took my hand and placed it on her round belly.

“I hear you’ve been sickly,” she said slyly. “Your father got tired of it. He’s giving you a brother—with me.”

She added, “Your mother is useless. She can’t keep her man. You’ll have a new mom soon.”

I didn’t understand everything, but I told my mother when she came home.

That night, the villa next door was engulfed in fire. The woman screamed.

My mother held me from behind and whispered softly in my ear:

“Alan, my love… do you like Mommy’s gift?”

* * *

"Mommy, it's Daddy! Daddy's home!"

I was pressed against the window, bouncing with excitement as I pointed at the man getting out of the car below. I had counted the days. It had been six months since he'd last come home.

But he didn't walk toward our door. The second he was out of the car, he sprinted straight into the blazing fire next door.

Terrified, I called his phone over and over, wanting him to come back, but he never answered.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally emerged from the flames, cradling the woman from that afternoon in his arms.

I let out a long sigh of relief.

But my mother's face had turned to stone.

At four in the morning, my father finally came home. I ran to greet him, expecting him to swing me up high like he always used to.

Instead, he shoved me toward his bodyguards, ordering them to hold me.

He strode past me, straight to my mother. In one swift movement, he seized her by the throat, lifting her off her feet. His voice was a blade of ice, colder than I had ever heard it.

"You set that fire at Natalie's, didn't you?! The baby is gone! That was my child, Elena! You're a mother yourself! How could you be so damn cruel?"

"Do you know what the doctors said? If I'd been a minute later, Natalie might have... She was helpless!"

My mother's face was turning purple, but a defiant smile played on her lips. "You know I can't stand being provoked, Robert. Especially by your little bitch. A pregnant one, at that."

"This was just an appetizer," she rasped. "If you can't keep your dog on a leash, I have no problem turning up the heat and cooking her alive."

His eyes were bloodshot with fury. He tightened his grip. "Do you really think I wouldn't turn you over to the cops?"

"You'd need proof for that, darling."

Before setting the fire, my mother had already had every security camera in the neighborhood wiped clean.

Enraged and humiliated, my father slammed her onto the glass coffee table. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, but what really shattered was my family.

He pulled out the thing everyone called a gun and pressed it to her temple. His voice was a low growl. "Elena, this is just how men are. We stray. Compared to guys who have a new girl every week, I've been good. And I promised you, the title of Mrs. Blackwood will always be yours."

"Natalie is no threat to you. Why do you have to push her into a corner?"

I had seen what guns did on TV. I bit down hard on the hand of the bodyguard holding me, and when he yelped, I scrambled free and threw myself in front of my mother.

"You're wrong, Daddy! I'll never cheat! I'll never betray Mommy!"

My father's furious expression faltered when he saw me. He quickly pulled the gun away.

My mother snatched me into her arms, and I could feel her whole body shaking violently. She must have been so scared. I hugged her tight, patting her back the way she always did for me. "It's okay, Mommy. Don't be scared. Alan's here."

But her trembling only worsened. She looked up at my father, her eyes filled with a profound disappointment, and held out a set of divorce papers.

"Robert Blackwood, let's get a divorce. I get custody of Alan."

Without a second's hesitation, he tore the papers to shreds and tossed them into the trash. "I told you when we got married. There's no divorce for us. Only 'til death do us part."

"This time," he said, his voice strained, "I admit it was my fault. I shouldn't have moved Natalie in next door without telling you. I know it provoked you. So, you don't have to apologize to her. I'll find a way to make it up to her for you."

With that, he turned his back on us and walked out the door.

Watching his resolute figure disappear, I felt a deep, cold certainty that something in our family had just broken forever.