The Price of His Son

My father was the king of Sterling City, the man they called Mr. Cain, whose name was whispered in alleys and boardrooms with the same mixture of fear and reverence. But he was my mother’s creature.

He had only one good leg. The other, a state-of-the-art prosthetic, was a testament to his devotion—a piece of himself he’d sacrificed to a rival to save her life.

The night I was born, fireworks exploded over the city until dawn.

It was a welcome, they said, for the city’s new princess.

Then, when I was five, a woman who looked like a faded photograph of my mother returned from overseas and moved into the old Cain family estate.

She pinched my cheek, her smile a cruel slash of red lipstick.

“Little thing,” she purred, her voice dripping with a saccharine poison. “Your mother is just my shadow. Your father only noticed her because she copied the way I dressed.”

“Now that I’m back,” she said, her eyes glittering, “the little mutt and her counterfeit mother can get the hell out.”

I ran upstairs, tears blurring the world into a watercolor painting of pain. I found my mother in her bathroom, calmly using a straight razor to slice away the tattoo on her shoulder that matched my father’s.

Blood patterned the marble floor like spilled wine, but my mother was smiling.

That night, the woman’s screams echoed from the old estate for hours.

My mother held me close, her hand a warm, steady presence on my back.

“Cora, darling,” she whispered against my hair. “Doesn’t the moon look fuller tonight?”

1

The crunch of tires on the gravel driveway sent me scrambling to the window.

“Mom, look! Dad’s home! He brought me Marielle!”

Marielle was the doll I wanted more than anything, with eyes the color of sapphires, just like the pendant my mother always wore.

But in the next second, Marielle was tossed to the ground.

My father, his limp more pronounced than usual, rushed into the grand house. Moments later, he emerged carrying an woman in his arms—the woman from the old estate.

I called out to him, my voice small against the vastness of the lawn, but he didn’t even look my way.

Instead, his foot came down on Marielle’s porcelain head, crushing it into a dozen pieces.

He returned just before dawn, his eyes as red as the blood I’d seen on my mother’s arm.

A tremor of fear went through me, but I held my arms out, expecting him to lift me up the way he always did.

“Daddy…”

He raised his prosthetic leg, the hard composite material catching the dim light, and kicked me in the stomach.

My head hit the sharp corner of the coffee table. I reached up and my fingers came away sticky and dark with blood.

It hurt. So much.

But I didn’t dare cry out.

Because my father had just slapped my mother across the face.

“What the hell do you want, Rosalind? Do you have any idea that Eva almost died?”

“She’s just a girl. Can’t you leave her be?”

My mother’s gaze was unnervingly calm. “Leo, have you forgotten who gave you this life? Who gave you the throne to this city?”

She tilted her head. “And now you have the nerve to question me?”

The color drained from my father’s face. “I earned this throne with my own blood! And Eva… Eva is carrying my son! She can’t be harmed!”

A slow, dangerous smile spread across my mother’s lips. “And you were stupid enough to bring your precious little incubator here? Have you forgotten what I told you?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, cold and sharp as ice. “Anyone so much as lays a finger on my daughter, and I salt the earth where their family stood.”

She rose from her chair and walked toward him, a predator closing in. “Leo Cain, I’ll ask you one last time.”

“That woman called my daughter a mutt. Do you think she deserves to live?”

My father froze.

It was only a second’s hesitation, but it was enough. The last warmth in my mother’s eyes vanished, leaving behind a frozen wasteland.

She picked up a letter opener from the desk, its silver blade gleaming, and held it out to him.

“Either you stick this in my heart right now, and you can live happily ever after with the one that got away… or…”

Her voice was silk and steel. “You get on your knees and tell me you will be Rosalind Darrow’s dog for the rest of your life.”

I could feel the rage radiating from my father. He snatched the letter opener and, in one swift motion, plunged it into my mother’s chest.

“Goddammit, Rosalind, when does it end!” he roared. “This isn’t the old days! I am Leo Cain, the king of this city! You will always be Mrs. Cain. No one can take that from you!”

“Eva is different. She’s… simple. She doesn’t want to compete with you for anything!”

My mother actually laughed. She pulled the blade out of her own flesh and pressed the bloody tip against his throat.

“Leo, I let you wear the crown. I let you play king. But I never intended for you to forget who you belong to.”

“Your last name might be Cain,” she whispered, “but this city… this city belongs to the Darrows.”

The red in his eyes deepened to a furious crimson. He shoved her back, wrenching the blade from her grasp and holding it up to her face. My mother had always said her face was her greatest asset.

I threw myself in front of her, my small arms spread wide.

“You’re a bad man! You broke my Marielle! You hit me! You hit Mommy!”

With a frustrated roar, my father slammed his fist into the mahogany cabinet beside him.

“Rosalind, all I want is for Eva’s son to be born safely! I abandoned her ten years ago. I owe her this.”

He stormed towards the door. “Take a good look at yourself. And stop this goddamn drama.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

A crimson flower was blooming on the front of my mother’s dress. I was afraid to touch it. “Mommy, does it hurt?”

She didn’t answer me, just stared at me for a long, silent moment. “Cora,” she finally said, her voice soft. “Your father has changed.”

“He no longer deserves to be your father.”

That night, I had a nightmare.

In my dream, my father was holding that woman, Eva, and they were laughing. A little boy stood beside them. My father pointed at me.

“That’s your sister,” he said to the boy. “From now on, she’s your personal punching bag. Hit her whenever you want.”

I woke up screaming and ran downstairs to find my mother.

But I saw him first. My father was moving Eva into our home.

“Ugh, what is that smell? It’s awful!” Eva whined, wrinkling her nose. “Leo, darling, all this… clutter… it’s not good for our son. I want to redecorate. Make it my own.”

My father immediately called his men in, and they started hauling my mother’s belongings out of the living room, piece by piece.

I rushed forward, trying to save my mother’s antique jewelry box.

But Eva’s stiletto heel pinned my hand to the floor. She leaned down, poking my forehead with a perfectly manicured finger.

“Listen here, you little mutt. I’m in charge now.”

“As soon as I give birth to my son, you and your lunatic mother are going to be sleeping with the fishes.”

She pulled a handful of candies from her purse, waving them in front of my face before dropping them one by one onto the floor, grinding them into dust with her heel.

“Want one? Get on your knees and bark like a dog. Maybe I’ll toss you a piece.”

My father stood nearby, a frown creasing his brow, but all he said was, “Cora, Eva is just joking with you. Say hello to her.”

When I remained silent, Eva’s smirk widened. “What, the cat got your tongue? I guess your mother never taught you any manners.”

My father said nothing, his silence a tacit agreement.

But then I saw her. My mother was descending the grand staircase.

She moved slowly, gracefully, holding a platter of sliced fruit. A small, sharp fruit knife was stuck into a piece of melon.

“Eva, dear, you’ve just arrived. Don’t trouble yourself with a child.”

She offered the platter.

Eva, assuming my mother was surrendering, beamed with triumph. “Well, it’s about time you learned your place.”

She reached for a piece of fruit.

In a flash, my mother grabbed her, forcing her mouth open and shoving the fruit knife inside. She gave it a vicious twist.

Eva’s tongue fell onto the pristine white rug.

My mother used a silk scarf to slowly, meticulously wipe the blood from her fingers, then patted Eva’s pale cheek.

“What sort of creature are you to lecture my daughter on manners?”

“You like barking so much? Is that a little mongrel you’re carrying in your belly?”

“Perhaps we should cut it out and see?”

The knife in my mother’s hand moved towards Eva’s swollen stomach.

My father finally snapped. He lunged, shoving my mother away with a wild roar. “Rosalind, you crazy bitch! You dare!”

His eyes were bloodshot. He snatched a heavy crystal vase and smashed it over my mother’s head.

“Rosalind, if you harm Eva, I will destroy you today!”

Shards of crystal and streams of blood ran down my mother’s face.

But he wasn’t finished. He grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall.

Once. Twice.

A crimson stain appeared on the wallpaper. His face was a twisted, unrecognizable mask of fury that terrified me.

But my mother didn’t scream. She didn’t even flinch.

After another sickening thud, just as she began to slide down the wall, she kicked out, her heel connecting squarely with my father’s prosthetic leg.

She smiled, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “Leo Cain, I gave you a chance.”

“But a dog… is always a dog.”

His prosthetic flew off. He clung to a cabinet for support, glaring at her with pure hatred. Then his expression changed. His hand went to his belt, to the gun he always carried.

I tried to stop him, but he threw me aside. “Go to your room!”

I landed hard, scraping my elbow raw on the floor.

But I didn't care about the pain.

Because I saw a group of my father’s men surround my mother. The same men who always bowed their heads and called me “Little Miss.”

Now, at my father’s command, they seized her arms.

My mother’s eyes were filled with a sadness I couldn’t comprehend.

“Leo, think very carefully about what you’re doing.”

“You’re really going to do this? For some woman off the street and a bastard of unknown origin?”

His chest heaved. “You forced my hand, Rosalind! Eva can’t take any more stress! The doctor said she’s at risk of miscarrying!”

“You will stay in the chapel until you’re ready to come out and apologize to her!”

I watched them start to drag my mother away.

I scrambled forward, sank my teeth into my father’s good leg, and bit down as hard as I could.

I am my mother’s daughter. I would not let them hurt her.

One of the men started to pull me off.

My mother’s voice cut through the air, cold as a tombstone. “Touch Cora, and I guarantee you won’t see the sunrise.”

My father’s face was a thundercloud of rage.

Just then, Eva, still gurgling on the floor, pointed a trembling finger at her own mouth.

Something in my father’s eyes snapped. He grabbed me by the throat, his hand tightening.

I couldn’t breathe. My face was turning purple.

“You little monster! You can rot in the chapel with your mother!”

My mother held me as the men led us away.

I wasn’t scared. Because I heard her whisper.

“Don’t be scared, Cora. The sun will be up soon.”

2

We were locked in the family chapel for three days and three nights with no food or water.

I was so weak with hunger I could barely move, limp in my mother’s arms.

Through a haze of exhaustion, I saw her fingering the sapphire pendant around her neck. “Soon,” she murmured. “Very soon.”

I could hear celebrations outside, the murmur of the guards at the door.

They were saying that my father had put the word out: anyone who touched Eva again would have their entire family wiped out.

They were saying that all of Sterling City knew Mr. Cain was finally turning on his wife for the one that got away.

On the morning of the fourth day, my father’s men dragged us out.

He was standing in the great hall, comforting the now-tongueless Eva. His prosthetic had been replaced with a newer, more advanced model. He walked with an almost undetectable limp.

He looked more like the true Mr. Cain than ever before.

He threw a stack of papers at my mother’s feet. They slid across the polished floor.

“Sign them, Rosalind. I’ll give you half the company shares.”

“I have only one condition. I’m going to marry Eva. I’m going to give her, and our son, a proper name.”

Eva cradled her belly, looking at my mother with smug triumph. Her mouth was bandaged, but her eyes screamed victory.

My mother didn’t even glance at the divorce papers.

“Leo, do you really think you’ve finally grown wings?”

My father let out a cold laugh. “I gave you time to reflect, Rosalind. It seems you still don’t get it.”

“Stop living in the past. Your era is over. This is my world now.”

He clapped his hands. A dozen men armed with assault rifles stepped forward, aiming their weapons at my mother.

“Today, in the Cain family home, in front of everyone, Eva will drink the tea of the new bride.”

He looked at Eva, his expression softening. “From now on, you are the lady of this house.”

Eva’s eyes curved into crescents as she smiled, leaning against my father and pushing her stomach out proudly.

She looked at my mother and mouthed the words silently:

Bitch. You and the little mutt are finished.

But the triumphant look on her face hadn’t even faded when a hole erupted in the center of her pregnant belly.

Blood gushed out, dark and thick.

My mother casually inspected the small pistol in her hand. “Leo, I seem to recall we made a promise to each other. The first one to ask for a divorce pays with their life.”

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