My Son, My War

ind was moving faster, piecing together the timeline of betrayal. Three years. For three y

name alone. I showed my ID to the new security guards-men I didn' t recognize, hired by Maria, no doubt-

grand double doors

formal dining roo

, in the seat reserved for the head of the household. A new housekeep

t, on his knee

igator-skin shoes, his shoulders slumped in

over my vision. I d

the cavernous room. I reached the table and, without a word, slappe

ll! Who are you, you crazy old hag?" he screamed. He pointed a trembling finger

ng out her chest. "You can' t come in here and assault the young master!" she snarled, g

ove. They' re going to get married. You' re just some gold-digger he' s tired of." He gestured dismissively

ow. He looked up at me, his eyes filled

king. "Is it true? Is Dad leaving us

ered, releasing a torrent of pure, protective fury. I looked down at my

e ringing with absolute power a

Ethan and the housekeeper

ny that pays your salary, Matthew' s salary, Maria' s salary? It' s mine. Every dollar

drew. This is your house. He is the