My Son, My War

“The Tokyo skyline was sparkling outside my penthouse window, but my eyes were glued to a livestream: my son Andrew' s 18th birthday party. It was supposed to be his moment. Instead, a smug stranger, Ethan Chavez, stood center stage, wearing Andrew' s custom suit and vintage watch, hailed as the birthday boy. Then the camera panned, and my blood ran cold: my son, Andrew, was on his knees in the background, a human footstool for Ethan and his friends, his face pale with humiliation. My husband, Matthew, called it a "misunderstanding," laughing off my frantic questions, gaslighting me shamelessly. My sister confirmed my deepest fears, describing a scene of triumphant betrayal at my own Hamptons estate, while Andrew' s best friend whispered desperate pleas for me to return home. A cold, hard diamond of rage formed in my chest. What kind of man, what kind of father, would allow such a monstrous act of cruelty against his own son, orchestrated by his mistress and her child, in our home, at my company? The party was over. The war had just begun.”