Anthony Johnson’s prized songbird bore twins—a secret he guarded fiercely. Until I stole them away. In retaliation, he strung up our son Leo by his ankles from the penthouse balcony, leaving him to roast in the midday sun. When I arrived, Leo’s face was scarlet, lips split and bleeding. His weak whimpers tore at my soul. “Isn’t Leo your son too?” I screamed. “And aren’t Cathy’s children mine?” Anthony snarled, pressing a stun gun to Leo’s ribs. “Tell me where they are, or I’ll make him beg for death.” Leo’s shrieks pierced the air as volts racked his small frame. Broken, I gasped the location: “The villa… outside the city.” Anthony fled—but returned too late. Our son had baked to death in the sun. 1 I clutched Leo’s limp body to my chest and raced to the hospital, a storm of denial and despair raging within me. Outside the emergency room, the doctor delivered the verdict with a heavy sigh. “You were too late. The boy was already running a high fever. Being exposed to that sun for so long… the dehydration caused total organ failure. Not even a miracle could have saved him.” I couldn’t accept it. A gut-wrenching sob tore from my throat, raw and animalistic. Just yesterday, he was a vibrant, laughing whirlwind of a boy. How could he be gone, ripped away from me in a single, cruel day? I had only meant to use those twins as leverage against Anthony. I never, ever imagined it would cost me my Leo. In that moment, a tidal wave of regret, so vast and powerful, consumed me whole. After making the final arrangements for my son, I was a ghost. Grief had hollowed me out, stealing my appetite, my strength, my will to move. I lay in bed, day after day, adrift in a sea of sorrow. It was three days before Anthony came home. He found me in bed and marched to my side, his expression a cold, hard slab of stone. “Because of what you did, my twins were traumatized. They’ve had a fever for three straight days, waking up from nightmares every night! They’re only three, Elara. How could you subject them to such terror?” Three? My Leo was only five. What about the terror he endured? A bitter fury rose in my throat, but my voice was a shredded ruin. I could only glare at him, my silence a testament to my hate. “Fortunately, Cathy is a forgiving woman. She’s willing to let this go. But you can’t be so reckless and jealous next time,” he said, his tone softening slightly as he placed a gift-wrapped box on the nightstand. “Leo’s at school, I assume? Tying him up like that… it was a last resort. I was just trying to scare you, not hurt him. He’s a tough little guy; he can handle it.” He paused. “This is a present for him. Give it to him when he gets home from kindergarten. I have to get back to Cathy and the kids, so I can’t stay.” And with that, he turned and walked out. I stared at the brightly colored box, a sharp, physical pain blooming in my chest, stealing my breath. He didn’t know. He didn’t know that my Leo was never coming home again. With a surge of venomous energy, I pushed myself up. A guttural scream escaped my lips as I swiped the gift off the table, sending it crashing to the floor, a meaningless, hollow offering. 2 A week passed before I could claw my way out of the suffocating fog of grief. I started eating a little, walking around the house like a specter in my own home. I made my way downstairs, only to be met with a sight that stopped my heart. Anthony, who hadn’t been home all week, was walking through the front door with Cathy and her twins in tow. He met my furious gaze without flinching and cut straight to the point. “Well, the secret’s out, so there’s no point in hiding them anymore. To make things easier, I’ve decided to move Cathy and the children in with us. I expect you and Leo to coexist peacefully with them. It’s time I enjoyed the pleasures of having all my children under one roof.” His shamelessness was so profound it was almost comical. My son was dead, his body barely cold, and this man was talking about domestic bliss with his mistress and her illegitimate children. A wave of white-hot anger washed over me, extinguishing the last embers of my love, leaving only the cold ash of disappointment. “Anthony,” I said, my voice raspy. “Let’s get a divorce.” His face darkened instantly. “Elara, what is this now? Another one of your tantrums?” A tantrum? He had the nerve. It was true, when I first found out about his other family, I had lost my mind. I’d screamed, I’d cried, I’d thrown things. I couldn’t stomach the fact that the man who had sworn his undying love for me had betrayed me within two years of our wedding. I had been hysterical, demanding he cut ties with Cathy, demanding he send her and her bastard children away. I had even hidden the twins. And for that, my own son had paid the ultimate price. Never again. I would never cause a scene again. I cleared my ravaged throat and spoke, my heart a dead weight in my chest. “Anthony, you and Cathy have a family now. I’ll step aside. I’ll make it easy for you.” “Elara!” he thundered, a storm cloud gathering in his eyes. “Every man I know with my kind of money has a second family. I’m only providing for two households. Is it really necessary to make such a scene?” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl. “And even with Cathy here, nothing changes for you and Leo. You will always be my wife. Leo will always be my firstborn son, the heir to the Johnson fortune. No one can ever touch your position. You should be grateful.” Grateful? A bitter, hysterical laugh escaped my lips, followed by a stream of hot tears. My mind flashed back to the beginning. We’d met in college. He’d pursued me relentlessly for three years, wearing down my defenses with grand gestures and promises whispered like prayers. On the day he proposed, he had sworn on his life that he would love only me, that he would never betray me. Now, here we were. His vows were dust, our love a forgotten memory. He had even orchestrated the death of our child. And he wanted me to be grateful? Cathy, seeing her opening, put on a show of magnanimity. “Anthony, darling, if Elara can’t accept me and the children, perhaps it’s best if we leave. I don’t want to be a source of pain for her…” “Don’t be ridiculous, Cathy,” Anthony said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “You and the children are staying. I own this house. No one is kicking you out without my permission.” He shot a pointed look in my direction. I turned away, my stomach churning. As I did, my eyes fell on the twins. They were reaching for a set of three custom-made porcelain figures on a display cabinet. A jolt of panic shot through me. “Don’t touch those!” I shrieked. Startled, the twins dropped one of the figures. It hit the marble floor with a sickening crack, shattering into a dozen pieces. “Waaah!” Both children burst into tears. Cathy’s eyes immediately welled up. “Elara,” she choked out, her voice thick with accusation, “if you have a problem with me, I can leave. But why would you scream at the children? What have they ever done to you that you must torment them like this?” Anthony’s face was a mask of fury. He strode over and slapped me, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. “Elara, can’t you find it in your heart to be a bigger person? They’re just children! They were born premature. You’ve already terrified them once. If your hysterics make them sick, will you be able to live with yourself?” 3 His words were just noise. I couldn’t hear them. My eyes were fixed on the shattered porcelain on the floor. I scrambled over like a madwoman, gathering the sharp fragments, not even feeling the slices as they opened up my fingers, drawing blood. Those three figures were Leo’s favorite things in the world. Anthony and I had made them for him on his third birthday. He’d said they represented us—a family of three, happy forever. Now, my son was gone. The figurine was broken. My family was shattered. The dam of my grief, the pain I had held back for days, finally burst. Cradling the broken pieces to my chest, I began to sob, a deep, hysterical wailing that came from the very core of my soul. Anthony stared at me, baffled. “What is wrong with you today, Elara? Are you possessed?” Cathy stepped forward, her voice dripping with false concern. “Oh, dear. Did something happen to upset you?” “Just leave her,” Anthony said, wrapping an arm around Cathy’s shoulders, his eyes cold and distant. “If she wants to cry, let her cry it out.” He then led his new family upstairs, leaving me alone on the floor. I stared at the bloody shards in my hands, the pain in my heart a monstrous wave pulling me under. After a long, silent moment, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Hello… I need to report a crime.”
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