My parents' love was the stuff of legend in Paris.

My father had three long scars running across his back—marks that he earned rescuing my mother from her own father.

The tallest, grandest building in the city was my father's wedding present to her.

The year I was born, the whole city lit the sky with fireworks all night—my father's gift to my mother.

People said I was the living proof of their love.

When I was three, a pretty woman moved in next door. She put my small hand on her rounded belly and smiled.

"I heard you've always been sickly," she said to me. "Your father finds you a nuisance, so he and I decided to try for another son."

"Your mother can't keep a man—she's useless. You'll have a new mother soon."

I didn't understand half of what she said, but I already had a mother. So when Mom came home I told her everything.

That night the villa next door went up in flames. The woman's sharp screams sliced through the sky. Mom came behind me and wrapped her arms around my neck, soft as always.

"Justin, do you like the present Mommy got you?" she asked.

——

"Mom—Dad! Dad is back!" I cried, pressed to the window, pointing at the man stepping out of the car below.

It had been six months since he'd come home.

But he didn't come inside. The moment he got out of the car, he ran straight into the fire.

I called and called, terrified, begging him to come back. He didn't answer. After a long while, he finally came out—carrying the neighbor woman from earlier. I breathed a long, relieved sigh.

Mom's face had gone hard.

At four in the morning he returned for real. I ran to meet him, eager to be lifted the way he always did. Instead, he shoved me toward his bodyguards and ordered them to seize me. Then he walked to Mom and grabbed her by the throat, hauling her up.

His voice was a cold thing I'd never heard from him before.

"You set the villa next door on fire, didn't you? The child Bella was carrying is gone—my blood! You're also a mother—how could you be so cruel?" he spat. "Do you know what the doctors said? If I'd arrived a moment later... Bella—she's just a child!"

Mom's face turned blue beneath his hand, but she still smiled, bitter and furious.

"You know I hate being provoked," she said. "Especially by your dogs—one of them was a pregnant dog." She shrugged. "Consider it an appetizer. If you can't control your dogs, I don't mind roasting one for dinner."

Red flared in my father's eyes and his grip tightened.

"You think I won't put you in front of the police?" he snapped.

"You'd need proof to have them take me away." Mom shrugged.

Before the fire, Mom had people wipe every surveillance tape. My father raged; he slammed her down onto the coffee table. The crash of broken glass echoed like the breaking of the life I'd always known.

Then he pulled something out—what everyone else called a gun—and pressed it on to her temple. His voice was vicious.

"Gianna," he said, "men are like this. After being together for too long, they cheat. Compared to those surrounded by women every day, I’ve already been pretty good. And didn’t I promise you? The title of Mrs. Pearson will always belong to you." He stared at my mother. "Bella couldn't threaten you—so why do you keep pushing her?"

I'd seen what a gun could do. I bit my protector's hand hard enough to draw blood, wrenched free, and barreled between them to stand in front of Mom.

"Dad," I shouted, every inch of me trembling, "you're wrong. I would never cheat. I would never betray Mom!"

Dad's face froze when he saw me. The anger twisted in his expression faltered, and he quickly lowered the gun.

Mom pulled me tightly into her arms, her whole body trembling.

She must be terrified, I thought.

I wrapped my arms around her, copying the way she usually comforted me, patting her back clumsily.

"Mom, don't be scared. Justin is here."

But her trembling only grew worse. She looked up at Dad, eyes full of despair, and held out a divorce agreement.

"Steven, let's divorce. Justin will stay with me."

Dad didn't even hesitate. He tore the papers into shreds and shoved them into the trash.

"We agreed on the day we married—between us, there will never be divorce. Only death."

His voice softened a little as he continued, almost weary.

"This was my fault. I shouldn't have let Bella move in next door without warning you—it provoked you. So you don't need to apologize to her. I'll find a way to atone for you."

Without another glance at us, Dad turned and left.

Watching his back as he walked away, I felt something shift in our family. Something broken that couldn't be put back together.

I thought he wouldn't return for a long time, the way it always was.

But the very next day, when Mom picked me up from school, Dad was already home.

The woman from yesterday—Bella—stood in the living room, directing bodyguards as they hauled our furniture out piece by piece. In its place, pink furnishings—colors that Mom hated—were carried in.

When Dad saw us, he stubbed out his cigarette and walked over. His voice carried exhaustion.

"Gianna, Bella wants to stay here for postpartum recovery. She doesn't like the old furniture, so we're replacing it. We've used this set long enough anyway—it's time for new ones. I know you don't like her, so I've bought tickets for you and Justin. Spend the month traveling abroad."

But this was our home! Why should Mom and I leave just because of an outsider?

Bella noticed us too. She walked straight up to me and pinched my cheek hard.

"You little brat. So the sickly weakling knows how to tattle, huh? I was planning to make you serve your baby brother once he was born, but instead you ran to your mother first. You really have a big mouth."

She leaned closer, voice sharp with malice. "Women like me don't like tattletales. When your dad and I have another child, not a single cent of Pearson inheritance will go to you."

Her perfume was thick and suffocating, making my chest tighten and my breath hitch.

Mom instantly pulled me into her arms.

"Justin is having an asthma attack! Quick, get his medicine!"

One of the bodyguards hurried to fetch it, but just as he came downstairs, Bella blocked his path. She took the inhaler and dumped everything into the trash.

"I'm a doctor," she said coldly. "Justin doesn't have asthma, just a little trouble breathing. He'll get over it without medicine."

My throat burned like a fist was clamped around it. I struggled harder to breathe.

Bella's eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction.

"Do you know why you're so weak, Justin? Why you keep getting sick? Because while your mom was pregnant with you, she slept around with countless men and caught something dirty. She passed her disease on to you."

Her smile twisted venomously. “Your mother is a whore who’s been with thousands. That makes you just as filthy. Not like me—I’m clean because I respect myself.”

But I knew the truth. Mom had only gotten sick because she sacrificed herself to save Dad. It had nothing to do with other men.

Had Dad forgotten that?

He sat on the sofa, head bent over work documents, silent. As if he hadn't heard a word.

Finally, Mom snapped. She kicked Bella hard, sending her stumbling aside, then snatched the medicine out of the trash. She pressed it to my nose with shaking hands.

Finally, I could breathe.

Bella's head hit the coffee table and blood bloomed quickly. But the man who had been calmly dealing with work a moment before shot forward like an arrow to shield her.

"Gianna, are you out of your mind?" he barked. "Can't you even hear the truth Bella is telling? If it weren't for you, why would Justin always be sick and unable to live like other kids?"

"Gianna, my patience has limits—apologize to Bella right now!"

Mom only laughed coldly and turned to me.

"Justin, do you think Mommy did anything wrong?" she asked.

I stuck up my thumb without hesitation. "I'll always support Mommy."

She smiled through tears.

Dad's face twisted with rage. "Look at how you raised Justin! You're not fit to be a mother. From now on, Justin will be raised by Bella."

He yanked me toward Bella.

Her cloying perfume tightened around my throat like a rope. I thrashed, but his grip only got harder.

My asthma flared, even worse than before. It felt as if a thousand ants were biting my neck. I collapsed to the floor.

"Come on, Justin," Dad sneered. "Bella already said you're fine. Stop pretending."

But I wasn't pretending. I could barely breathe.

Before I blacked out, I saw my mother fight her way through them, scoop me into her arms, and run outside.

As she carried me, I glanced back toward the living room—where my father was bent over, fussing over Aunt Bella’s injuries.

A wave of hatred crashed over me.

He once swore he would love Mom and me for a lifetime—but forever turned out to be so short. He'd changed so fast.

During my hospital stay those days, Dad never came to see me once. Yet when Mom pushed my wheelchair outside for air, I saw him again—sitting vigil in the neighboring room, tenderly attending to Bella.

I knew Mom had seen him too; her eyes were wet. I wiped them for her and buried my head in her shoulder.

"Mom, divorce him. Let's get rid of him," I said.

She paused, then pinched my cheek. "Do you even know what divorce means?"

I nodded, then nodded again. "Divorce means we never have to live with Dad again. Then you won't cry because of him."

She smiled ruefully and kissed my forehead. "Alright. I'll give him one more chance. If he doesn't change, then we'll divorce."

...

Three days later I was discharged. It was also my birthday. Mom threw me a grand party.

Just as we were about to cut the cake, Bella arrived—bringing a whole funeral procession with her. She stormed in wailing.

"My poor son," she sobbed. "Only four months old and burned alive. The mastermind walks free and now throws a birthday party for her child—how unfair the heavens are!"

"My son—oh, it's my fault. I couldn't fight like Miss Andrews to use power and get revenge. Boohoo—"

Her cries drowned the music. Guests who had been smiling at our celebration turned pale and stared at Mom and me with strange, sympathetic eyes.

Mom's face went cold; she signaled the bodyguards to throw Bella out. But Bella pressed a hand to her belly and hissed.

"Gianna, I'm pregnant again. Last time you killed my baby—Steven let you go. But this time he's already warned you: if you lift a finger against me again, he'll make sure you die in a heartbeat."