The 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?”

1
"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.

2
I thought that after leaving like that, my father would be gone for a long time again.
But the next day, when my mother picked me up from school, he was already sitting in our living room.
The woman from yesterday, Natalie, stood beside him, directing movers as they carried our furniture out, piece by piece, replacing it with garish pink items my mother despised.
Seeing us, my father stubbed out his cigarette and walked over, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
"Elena, Natalie needs a place to recover from the... incident. She doesn't like our furniture, so we're replacing it. It's old anyway. Time for a change."
He avoided her eyes. "I know you don't like her, so I've booked a month-long trip for you and Alan. Go abroad, have a vacation."
But this was our home. Why was he kicking us out for a stranger?
Natalie spotted us and sauntered over. She pinched my cheek, hard. "Well, well, if it isn't the sickly little tattletale. I was going to wait until your little brother was born and make you his servant, but you just had to run your mouth to your mommy, didn't you?"
"I don't like boys with big mouths," she hissed. "When your daddy and I have our next baby, you won't get a single penny of the Blackwood fortune."
The cloying scent of her perfume was so strong it made it hard to breathe.
My mother saw my distress and pulled me into her arms. "Alan's having an asthma attack! Get his medicine, now!"
But as a bodyguard rushed down with my inhaler, Natalie blocked his path and dumped the entire contents of the medical kit into the trash.
"I'm a doctor," she declared smugly. "Alan doesn't have asthma. It's just a minor respiratory issue. He'll be fine if he just toughs it out. No need for drugs."
My throat felt like it was being squeezed shut. It was getting harder and harder to draw a breath.
Natalie looked down at me with an all-knowing smirk. "Alan, do you know why you're so fragile, always getting sick? It's because while your mother was pregnant with you, she was sleeping around with all sorts of men. She caught some filthy disease and passed it right on to you in her belly."
"Your mother is a whore," she sneered. "And that makes you just as dirty. Not like me. I'm clean. I have self-respect."
But my mother only got sick because she was saving my father. It had nothing to do with other men. Had he forgotten?
I looked over at him, but he just sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, acting as if he hadn't heard a word.
My mother finally snapped. She kicked Natalie aside with a furious shove, dug my inhaler out of the trash, and pressed it to my lips.
Sweet, life-giving air flooded my lungs.
Natalie’s head had hit the corner of the new coffee table, and blood was already trickling down her temple.
My father, who had been ignoring everything just a second ago, was on his feet in a flash, rushing to her side.
"Are you insane, Elena?" he roared at my mother. "Can't you handle hearing a few home truths? If it weren't for your issues, why would Alan be sick all the time? Why can't he live like a normal kid?"
"Elena, my patience with you is wearing thin. Apologize to Natalie. Now."
My mother just let out a cold, bitter laugh. She turned to me. "Alan, do you think Mommy did something wrong?"
I gave her a big thumbs-up. "I'm always on your side, Mommy."
She smiled, but her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
My father's face twisted in rage. "Look what you've taught him! You're not fit to be a mother. From now on, Natalie will be in charge of raising Alan."
He grabbed me and tried to pull me over to Natalie's side. But the suffocating cloud of her perfume was like a rope tightening around my neck. I struggled, but my father's grip only grew stronger, more forceful.
The asthma came back, worse than before. My neck felt like it was being devoured by a thousand fire ants. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor.
Through the haze of pain, I heard my father's annoyed voice. "Not this again. Alan, your Aunt Natalie already told you you're fine. Stop faking it."
But I wasn't faking it. I really, truly couldn't breathe.
Just before I blacked out, I saw my mother burst through them all, scoop me into her arms, and run for the door. I glanced back at the living room. My father was crouched over Natalie, his face a mask of gentle concern as he checked her injury.
In that moment, a fierce, burning hatred for my father ignited within me.
He had promised to love me and Mommy forever. But his forever was so short.

3
I was in the hospital for days, and my father never once came to see me.
But one afternoon, when Mom was pushing my wheelchair through the halls for some fresh air, I saw him. He was in the room next to mine, tenderly caring for Natalie.
I knew my mother saw him too. The corners of her eyes were wet. I reached up to wipe a tear away and buried my face in her lap.
"Mommy, let's divorce Daddy," I whispered. "We don't want him anymore."
She froze for a second, then gently squeezed my cheek. "Do you even know what a divorce is?"
I shook my head, then nodded. "It means we don't have to live with Daddy ever again. And then you won't have to cry because of him anymore."
A sad smile touched her lips, and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Alright, Alan. Mommy will give your father one last chance. If he doesn't change, we'll get a divorce."
Three days later, I was discharged. It was also my birthday.
My mother threw a huge party for me. Just as we were about to cut the cake, Natalie showed up. She wasn't alone. She'd brought an entire funeral procession with her, all dressed in black.
She burst into the room, wailing like a banshee.
"Oh, my poor son! My poor baby! Burned alive at only four months in the womb! And the monster who did it gets to throw a birthday party for her own son without facing any punishment! Oh, the injustice of it all!"
"My baby, it's Mommy's fault! I'm not powerful and ruthless like Mrs. Blackwood. I can't just bend the law to get my revenge! Oh, my poor, poor child..."
Her histrionics drowned out the cheerful party music. The guests, who had just been smiling and giving me presents, now stared at me and my mother with strange, unsettling looks.
My mother's face darkened. She signaled for the bodyguards to throw Natalie out.
But Natalie just stroked her own belly and sneered, "Not so fast, Elena. I'm pregnant again. Robert let you off the hook for killing my last baby, but he's already warned me about you this time. If you so much as lay a finger on me, he'll destroy you."
"He doesn't love you anymore, Elena," she taunted. "Do you really think you can still throw your little tantrums and get away with it? Even if you don't care about yourself, you should at least think about your precious son."
Her eyes flickered towards me. My mother hesitated, her hand tightening on mine. It was the little squeeze she always gave me for encouragement, so I squeezed back, hard.
The storm clouds on my mother's face suddenly cleared. She smiled, a calm, serene expression settling over her. "In that case," she said to Natalie, "be my guest."
Seeing my mother back down, Natalie's smirk widened. She grew bolder, marching through the room like a conquering queen. She swept all my birthday presents off the table and sent them crashing to the floor. Even my huge birthday cake was smashed in two.
But just then, the grand chandelier in the center of the hall began to emit a low, ominous groaning sound.
My mother's eyes darted upwards.
Natalie, however, was lost in her triumphant destruction, completely oblivious.
The next second, the chandelier plummeted from the ceiling, crashing down with perfect, deadly accuracy right on top of her.
A splash of crimson stained the pristine floor.
My mother covered my eyes with her hand, but I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh, Natalie, I am so sorry. I forgot to tell you. That chandelier is rusted through. We just haven't had time to get it repaired. It could have fallen at any moment."
In the end, Natalie was carried out on a stretcher.
And I got a brand-new strawberry cake and a fresh pile of birthday presents.

4
The news of Natalie's "accident" was all over the papers the next day.
But this time, my father didn't storm home in a rage. In fact, he started coming home more often. He never mentioned Natalie's name again.
I didn't understand what had changed, until one night I overheard my mother talking with our head of staff in the study.
"Natalie's baby is gone, and her face is permanently disfigured. Mr. Blackwood has likely decided she's no longer of any value to him. It seems he's planning to return to the family, to you and the young master."
My mother stared out the window at the inky black sky. Her voice was flat. "We'll see."
In the weeks that followed, my father came home earlier and earlier. He brought me mountains of toys and my favorite snacks. My mother's jewelry boxes overflowed with new pieces, and her closets were bursting with designer clothes.
Even my mother seemed to be thawing. I saw her smile more.
One day, my father announced he was taking us to visit my grandparents. They lived far away, a long drive from the city.
As we were driving over a massive bridge, my father suddenly pulled the car over. I thought he wanted to stop and enjoy the view.
The next second, the car doors were yanked open. My mother and I were dragged out onto the pavement.
My father's gentle facade had vanished. His eyes were filled with a cold, murderous intent.
"I told you Natalie was no threat to you, Elena," he snarled. "But you went after her again and again. Because of you, she can never have children. Because of you, her face is ruined, she can't even bear to be seen in public. Do you have any idea how much that has destroyed her?"
"All these weeks, coming home, being nice to you and the boy... it was all an act. Just to get you to lower your guard, to get you in a car with me today without your army of bodyguards."
At his signal, his men seized me and threw me over the railing into the churning river below.
As I fell, my mother lunged for me, wrapping me in a desperate embrace. Her tears, hot against my cold skin, fell on my face.
I heard my father's voice drift down from above, chillingly calm.
"Don't blame me for this, Alan. Your mother just wouldn't listen. She was turning you against me. I just have to teach you both a little lesson."
The moment the icy water swallowed us, I think I finally understood the look in my mother's eyes when she would sit alone in her room, staring at old photos of them together. I remembered her quiet whisper: "Times change, and people change with them."
My father's heart was as cold and merciless as the river now consuming us.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My mother, wrapped in bandages, sat beside me. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She hugged me so tightly it hurt, whispering apologies over and over. She said it was her fault, that she had let me suffer.
But Mommy, you were the one who was suffering the most. And you never once complained.
That night, my mother told me to go to sleep early. She said she had some business to take care of. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach, so I snuck out and followed her.
I watched her go to the new villa my father had bought for Natalie. She and her team of bodyguards smashed everything inside to pieces before tying Natalie to a chair.
It wasn't long before my father arrived, looking frantic. The moment he saw my mother, his face became a mask of pure fury. "Elena, are you trying to drive me to my grave?"
My mother just laughed, a cold, sharp sound, as she toyed with a small, gleaming dagger. "I'm simply returning the favor. Why is it that when I do it, it's considered a death threat?"
She pressed the tip of the dagger to Natalie's throat. A thin line of red appeared.
My father fell to his knees without a moment's hesitation. "Elena, I'm begging you. Don't hurt Natalie. She's innocent in all this. Let her go, and I'll do anything you ask."
"You're doing all this for a divorce, right? Fine! I agree! We'll get a divorce." He immediately had someone bring him divorce papers, signed his name, and held them out to her.
My mother didn't even glance at them. She tore them to pieces.
"You said it yourself, Robert. No divorce. Only death. And tonight, I'm going to kill you both!"

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