Chapter 1
My wife exploded in rage. All I’d done was press a mere inch deeper into her during intimacy.
“Who gave you the gall? To dare to covet a place even Jasper has never reached!”
“You shameless wretch, I’ll make you remember your place!”
2012
She ordered my legs broken, had the word “filth” carved across my skin, and then forced me to pay her a hundred million dollars in emotional damages. I toiled from dawn till dusk, working seven jobs day just to pay off the debt. But my wife found my common labor an embarrassment, so she locked me in a custom–built, electrified kennel for “reflection.” My young son, crying as if his heart would break, managed to sneak me out when the bodyguards weren’t looking. For that, my wife had him beaten viciously and then left for the stray dogs outside.
“You damned little bastard! How dare you defy my orders! This is what happens!”
Watching my son, his small body mauled and bloody, I knelt, frantically apologizing, begging her for just a sliver of money for medi- gal care. But she just smirked, flinging an outrageous bill for a billion dollars in my face.
“You two useless pieces of trash, you owe me so much, and you have the audacity to ask me for money! If it’s not paid in full within twenty–four hours, prepare to collect that little beast’s corpse!”
My heart turned to ash. As I crawled back, clutching the few hundred dollars I’d gotten from selling my blood, my son’s body was already stiff and cold. Meanwhile, news of my wife lavishing billions on a global art exhibition for her childhood sweetheart was sweeping through the city’s elite circles. I clutched my son’s mangled remains, tears streaming down my face, the grief a dull blade gouging at my heart, searing deep into my bones.
1
In a hushed corner of the hospital, my son lay still, lifeless in a spreading pool of blood. His small body was a map of grotesque wounds, his face barely recognizable. I collapsed beside him, my hands trembling as I reached out, wanting to gather him into my arms, yet terrified to touch. A tidal wave of agonizing pain consumed me, drowning out everything else.
Nurses bustled past, oblivious, their excited whispers about the trending news piercing the suffocating silence.
“Oh my god, spending a fortune just to make her childhood sweetie smile. Is this what rich people’s love looks like?”
“Of course, only a genius artist like Jasper Davies deserves a top–tier female CEO!”
“Another love story, and I’m crying over it!”
Their shrill voices, repeated over and over, flayed my soul. My hand touched the thin stack of bills in my pocket. I couldn’t even affo- rd a proper urn. In desperation, I dialed Valerie’s number.
After a long, agonizing wait, her furious voice blared through the receiver: “Caleb Thorne! You have the nerve to call me! I put you in
that cage for reflection, to give you a chance to reform! Who gave you the audacity to escape? Breaking the kennel means you owe
me another hundred million! Or I swear, I’ll feed that little brat to the dogs!”
Another absurd excuse. For seven years, Valerie had found endless ways to humiliate me. I had grown accustomed to it, but then a man’s voice filtered through the line. “Thorne, you messed up, so you deserve the punishment. My sister was merciful enough not to kill you, why can’t you learn to behave?”
My heart was a raw, throbbing wound. But to give my son a proper burial, I had to crush my pride. My voice was barely a whisper. Please, just a thousand dollars more. I’ll find a way to pay you back. I just want to bury my so-”
Valerie shrieked, cutting me off, a shrill, hysterical sound. “Shut up! Don’t use that worthless brat as an excuse! He’s dead, and he’s
not worth a penny to me! I’m warning you, if you don’t pay up, it won’t just be broken legs this time!”
2012
Chapter 1
2012
Her scream threatened to shatter my eardrums. I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my face. Around me, the nurses‘
laughter rippled, oblivious. Outside, on the massive screen, endless loops of my wife and Jasper kissing sweetly played on. In that
moment, my heart turned to ash.
I took the last few dollars I had, crawling to the crematorium gates, begging until my head bled and my knees were bruised purple.
Only then did they grudgingly agree to cremate my son. The raging flames devoured everything, along with my last flickering hope,
reducing it all to dust. I couldn’t even afford an urn for his ashes, so I stripped off my shirt, wrapping his remains inside to carry
them home.
The moment I pushed open the door, a sticky, cloying scent hit me, sickeningly sweet and opulent. I gagged, stumbling towards my
son’s bedroom, hand clamped over my mouth. Torn stockings and lace lingerie lay scattered across the floor, tangling around my
feet, as if mocking my helplessness. I frantically kicked them away, but their filthy residue clung to my shoes, the glistening streaks
a blinding, nauseating glare.
I fought back the urge to cry, reaching under the bed for a crumpled photograph. In it, I held my son, smiling, while Valerie stood
behind us, her back to the camera, distant and cold. She had never been affectionate with Leo; this secretly taken picture was his