It all happened because my husband's "true love" fainted at the sight of my son's Halloween costume. She claimed the shock made her cough up blood.

In retaliation, Leo Gilbert tossed our five-year-old into the leech pit like garbage.

I had slammed my forehead against the floorboards until the wood splintered and blood blinded me, begging for mercy.

"Leo, he's your own flesh and blood! Punish me however you want, but please—spare him! He'll die in there!"

His boot connected with my ribs, sending me sprawling. His voice cut like ice.

"He brought this on himself. He deliberately terrified Eva, put her in the hospital. He isn't fit to breathe the same air as her, let alone be called my son."

He looked down at me with pure disgust. "Even if he shares my DNA, he is nothing compared to the woman I love."

He turned away, issuing a cold command into his phone.

"Double the leeches. I want him to pay blood for blood."

I collapsed, watching in horror as the dark, writhing mass swallowed my son.

"How would an idiot know pain?" Leo had said, walking away without a backward glance. "I'm teaching him a lesson so he doesn't grow up to be a menace."

My heart hammered until it felt like it stopped altogether.

There was no future to protect. My son was being drained dry.

——

"Mommy... Joey hurts so much... Joey doesn't want to play this game anymore..."

The moment I shoved open the basement door, my son's shrill wails pierced the air.

He was trapped in a rusted iron cage, his small body covered in black, pulsing leeches.

The air in my lungs turned to ice.

In just one hour, my son—once chubby and rosy—had been reduced to a pale, trembling shadow. No color left in his face.

Tears blurred my vision. I forced a trembling smile. "Joey, don't be scared. Mommy's here. Mommy's going to get you out."

I lunged for the cage, but before my fingers touched metal, a heavy blow struck my shoulder.

I hit the concrete hard.

A thug with bleached straw-yellow hair stood over me, chewing gum with a smirk.

"Mrs. Henson, don't interrupt. This is a punishment game Mr. Gilbert designed for Young Master Joseph. Timer isn't up yet."

His gaze crawled over me, oily and repulsive.

"However... Mr. Gilbert thinks you're dirty, but I'm not picky. Strip and service me right now, maybe I'll let the kid suffer a little less."

I forced myself up, clutching my shoulder. "I'll give you five million. Please. Spare my child."

He laughed, spitting his gum on the floor. "Money isn't the issue. Kneel and bark like a dog. Loud enough, and I might consider it."

Inside the cage, Joey's breathing grew shallow. His eyes fluttered shut.

My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the cold concrete, discarding every shred of dignity. I crawled toward his boots.

"Woof!"

"Louder! Can't hear you!" he sneered.

I bit my tongue until I tasted copper, lowering my head in complete humiliation.

"Woof! Woof! Woof!"

Hearing his satisfied cackle, I let out a shaky breath. If this bought Joey even a second of relief, I would bark until my throat bled.

Just then, his phone rang.

His posture changed instantly. He straightened, answering with a flattering tone.

"Miss Fox! Don't worry. We're following orders strictly. The boy won't leave this basement alive."

Eva Fox.

A primal roar tore from my throat.

I lunged forward, snatched the phone, and screamed into the receiver.

"Eva! Joey is innocent! I took ninety-nine needles to keep him alive during my pregnancy! I bled for him! If you want revenge, take me! Spare my son!"

Before she could answer, a deep, furious voice thundered through.

"Beth Henson, are you done?"

Leo.

The thug snatched the phone back, putting it on speaker. Leo's voice filled the damp basement.

"Joey put Eva in the hospital, vomiting blood," Leo said, his tone devoid of humanity. "She's gracious enough not to press charges. Instead, she sent him on a little 'vacation' to reflect. You should be thanking her, not screaming like a shrew."

"Leo, look at what you're doing!" I sobbed. "Joey is covered in leeches! He's dying! He can't hold on!"

A pause. Then a soft, weak voice came through, terrifyingly fragile.

"Beth... I know you hate me," Eva sobbed gently. "But please... don't slander me. I only wanted him to learn..."

"I love Leo Gilbert. I love him, and I love our son just as fiercely. How could I possibly hurt him?"

Leo's voice cut through the basement's stagnant air like a blade of ice. "Beth Henson, I didn't believe your lies then, and I don't believe them now. Since you enjoy performing, I'll let you act until you break."

He barked into his phone, his tone devoid of mercy. "Double the leeches. Now."

The moment the order fell, a black, writhing tide poured from the vents above the iron cage. The mass of slick parasites instantly submerged my son's small, frail body.

Joey's faint, terrified cries were silenced in a heartbeat.

"No!"

Adrenaline surged through me, fueled by a mother's pure despair. I grabbed a heavy wooden stool, pivoting with a strength I didn't know I possessed, and swung it at the guard blocking my path.

Wood cracked against bone.

I didn't stop. I swung again and again, a red haze clouding my vision. Only when the guard collapsed, blood masking his face as he feebly held out the key in surrender, did I freeze. My chest heaved, my eyes burning. I snatched the key, my hands trembling so violently I could barely fit it into the lock.

When I finally threw the cage door open and pulled my son into my arms, the silence was deafening.

He was terrifyingly cold. I pressed my ear to his chest, desperate for a sound, a breath, a flutter.

Nothing.

I gritted my teeth, fighting the darkness encroaching on my vision. I hoisted Joey's limp body against my chest and stumbled toward the exit.

Behind me, the battered guard let out a vicious wheeze. "Don't waste your energy. Mr. Gilbert ordered every car on the property destroyed because Miss Fox didn't like the look of them. Accept your fate, Mrs. Henson. Young Master Joseph is destined to die in this basement."

Despair clawed at my throat. My knees buckled, and the world began to tilt into blackness.

Bang!

The basement door flew open, slamming against the concrete wall. A deafening roar of an engine echoed from outside, followed by heavy, frantic footsteps. A tall figure sprinted toward me, silhouetted against the blinding light from the doorway.

"Beth! I have a plane standing by! It's faster—we can get Joey to the hospital in minutes!"

Benjamin Swanson. My brother.

Seeing him was like finding a lifeline in a drowning sea. A spark of hope ignited in the ashes of my terror.

Five minutes later, I rushed into the emergency wing of the Gilbert Family Hospital, clutching my son's bloodied, leech-bitten body.

I grabbed Dr. Howard by the lapels of his white coat, my dignity forgotten. "Dr. Howard, please! I'm begging you. Save him! He's dying!"

Dr. Howard refused to meet my gaze. He shifted uncomfortably, his voice dropping to a shameful whisper. "Mrs. Henson... it's not that we don't want to save him. But Mr. Gilbert issued a death order. The hospital is currently cleared to receive only Miss Fox. No other patients are to be admitted."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My legs gave out, and I would have collapsed if Benjamin hadn't caught me.

His face contorted with rage, Benjamin whipped out his phone and dialed Leo.

"Leo!" he roared the moment the line connected. "Joey is dying! Order Dr. Howard to treat him immediately, or I swear you will regret this for the rest of your miserable life!"

Through the speaker, the wet, sickening sounds of intimacy were unmistakable.

After a long, agonizing pause, Leo's voice filtered through, dripping with disdain. "Beth really has talent. She even dragged you, her favorite adulterer, into her little play. I still haven't settled the score with you for the night she drugged me and crawled into your bed."

"Leo, you bastard!"

I snatched the phone from Benjamin's hand, screaming into the receiver. "Joey is your biological son! He was trapped in the leech pit! He's covered in wounds and he's not breathing! Tell the doctor to save him!"

Leo scoffed, a sound cruel enough to freeze blood. "Eva is pregnant with my twins. If the idiot dies, he dies. Stop making a fuss over nothing."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The line went dead.

Every word had been a dagger. If the idiot dies, he dies.

Benjamin stared at the phone, his brows knitted in fury and confusion. He wanted to call back, to explain the truth—that we were siblings, that there was no affair—but the damage was done.

I met my brother's worried gaze and offered a broken, miserable smile.

Memories surged like a tidal wave.

I was five years old when Lily Gilbert took me from the orphanage and brought me to the Gilbert estate. From that day on, I was Leo's shadow.

I remembered a sunny afternoon in the garden. We were playing, tumbling through the grass, when we accidentally fell, our lips brushing in an innocent, accidental kiss. The young Leo had turned beet red. He shoved me away and ran off, flustered and embarrassed.

I had sat there in the grass, clutching my knees, worrying about how I would ever coax the angry young master into forgiving me.

How did we get here? I wondered, looking at my dying son. How did that little boy become this monster?

Memory washed over me, sharp and bright.

I was a child again, and Leo Gilbert was shoving his piggy bank into my arms.

"Beth, this is everything I have." His cheeks flushed, his gaze burning with earnest intensity far beyond his years. "I kissed you, so I have to take responsibility. When we grow up, you have to marry me."

Before I could even blink, he grabbed my hand, dragging me to his mother, begging her to formalize our engagement right then and there.

Throughout the hazy, innocent days of our youth, Leo was my shadow. If any other boy dared confess his feelings to me, Leo would produce that childhood betrothal agreement like a weapon, fiercely defending his claim.

After college, he couldn't wait. He threw himself into planning our wedding with obsessive detail.

But on the eve of the ceremony, everything shattered.

I lost consciousness after a drink. When I woke, the world was spinning, and Leo stood over the bed, his face twisted into a mask of pure hatred. Lying beside me was my older brother, Benjamin.

Leo's eyes were bloodshot, his voice dripping with ice.

"Eva was right." His gaze raked over me with disgust. "You're rotten to the core. A cheap, lying slut."

He hated me. God, how he hated me. Yet through gritted teeth, he forced the wedding to continue to save face. But after that day, he never touched me again. He looked at me as if I were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

And now...

The memory dissolved into the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital. The small body in my arms was growing colder by the second.

I didn't care about dignity. I didn't care about pride.

Thud.

I dropped to my knees on the freezing tile. I slammed my forehead against the ground. Once. Twice. Again.

"Dr. Howard! I'm begging you! Save my Joey!"

Benjamin tried to pull me up, his hands shaking, but I was immovable. I kept kowtowing, striking the floor until my skin split and blood ran into my eyes.

"As long as you save Joey, I'll be your servant! I'll be your slave! Please!"

Dr. Howard looked at the blood smearing the floor, then at Joey, whose chest was barely rising. His resolve crumbled. "Get the child to the ER! Now!"

The doors swung shut, severing me from my son.

Minutes felt like hours. When Dr. Howard emerged, the look in his eyes stopped my heart cold. Profound, crushing regret.

"Mrs. Henson... I'm sorry. We missed the window. Go see Joey. It... it will be the last time."

My mind went blank. The world tilted as I staggered into the operating room.

Joey lay there, so small in the sterile bed. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open.

"Mom..." His voice was a thread of sound, barely a whisper. "I'm sorry. I wasn't good. I made you and Dad fight again."

Tears blinded me as I gripped his cooling hand.

"Joey won't be naughty anymore," he breathed.

As the last word left his lips, the light faded from his eyes. His small hand went limp in mine.

"Joey?"

Silence.

I clutched my son's lifeless body and screamed. It wasn't a sound—it was a physical tearing of my soul, my heart gouged out while I was still alive. The pain was absolute. Suffocating.

I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to breathe.

I scrambled up, blind with grief, and rammed my head toward the concrete wall. I just wanted to go with him.

Benjamin was faster. He caught me, wrapping his arms around me in a vice grip, pulling me back from the edge.

"Beth! Don't be stupid!" His voice broke. "Divorce Leo. I'm taking you away from here."

I went limp in his arms, sliding to the floor. Benjamin's fists clenched so hard his knuckles went white, his eyes burning with murderous rage.

"Don't worry, Beth," he hissed. "Joey won't die in vain. I will make Leo pay. Blood for blood."

I leaned against the cold wall, drained of everything—hope, love, fear. I slowly shook my head.

"The Gilbert family took me in when I was an orphan. That was a debt of raising me," I whispered, my voice hollow. "Leo saved my life once. That was a debt of survival."

I looked at my dead son.

"I have owed them for a lifetime. But today... the debts are paid."

"From this moment on, between me and the Gilbert family, between me and Leo... we owe each other nothing. Until death takes me, I will never have anything to do with him again."

The debt of survival.

My mind drifted back to my eighteenth birthday. Leo had insisted on taking me to the mall to pick out a gift.

We had just walked through the doors when the nightmare began. Terrorists seized the building, firing blindly into the crowd. Panic erupted.

Leo didn't hesitate. He grabbed my hand, dragging me into a remote fire escape.

But they found us.

A bullet whizzed past my ear. I froze, paralyzed.

Leo threw himself over me, pinning me to the floor, using his broad back as a human shield.

"Beth, close your eyes," he whispered, his voice steady despite the chaos. "It'll be over soon. I won't let anything happen to you."

He took three bullets for me that day.

He spent two weeks in the ICU, hovering between life and death. It took him over a year to fully recover. During rehabilitation, he withered to skin and bones.

Yet even then, he would smile at me, weak but adoring.

"Luckily, they didn't hit anything vital," he'd said, brushing a tear from my cheek. "Otherwise, who would be left to protect you?"

Who would protect you?

The irony tasted like ash. The man who once took a bullet to save me had become the executioner of our son.