My Son, My War

ay, on a live stream from a high-society blog. It was my son Andrew' s 18th birthday, a milestone I had meticulously

I saw a

he custom-tailored suit I had designed for Andrew, and on his wrist fla

he incredible Ethan Chavez!" th

aria Chavez, introduced as his mother and a top ex

panned, and my

my son, Andrew. He was on his knees, his face pale and humiliated,

tream ende

as I dialed my

His voice was a franti

usly calm. "And why is he wearing Andrew' s suit and

s party was great, it just ended. That suit? A cheap knock-off. And that' s not Andrew in the

g me, and he wasn

rew. No answer. My heart

ptons. When I got there, some woman named Maria told me I' d missed Andrew' s party. She and her son, Et

of betrayal so vast it was hard to comprehend.

e to come home. Please. They' re treating Andrew like.

e. I dropped the phone and my assistant was already booking the nex