Chapter 2 - Blood on the Imported Tiles
The metallic scent of fresh blood hit my senses long before the reality of the fracture registered in my mind. Leo was gasping, his tiny hands pressed against his nose as crimson liquid poured between his fingers, instantly staining the pristine white collar of his birthday shirt.
"Leo! Look at me, baby, look at Mom," I cried out, panic seizing my throat as I pulled him into my chest. His nose was visibly misaligned, swelling into an ugly, angry purple within seconds.
Instead of rushing to help, Courtney stepped back, dusting off her designer skirt as if my son were a spilled glass of cheap wine. "Stop making such a melodramatic scene," she scoffed, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "He just tripped over his own clumsy feet. You always raise him to be such a weakling."
Before I could scream back, my mother, Eleanor, marched down the patio steps. Her face was set in a mask of absolute disdain. She didn't look at Leo's shattered nose; her eyes were locked downward, glaring at the dark crimson drops hitting her expensive Italian patio tiles.
"Look at what your feral child has done to my imported stone," Eleanor hissed, her voice vibrating with venom. She reached down, grabbed a dirty, grease-stained rag from a bucket by the grill, and threw it directly into my face.
It bounced off my cheek, leaving a smear of ash and soot.
"Scrub his blood off my imported Italian tiles before you even think about taking him to the hospital," Eleanor commanded, crossing her arms. "And clean yourself up while you're at it. You look like absolute trash."
The sheer audacity of her cruelty extinguished my panic, replacing it with a cold, terrifying fury. I slowly lowered Leo into a sitting position against a sturdy oak tree, pressing a clean cloth to his face.
"You broke his nose," I whispered, standing up to my full height and turning my glare toward Courtney. "You and your mother are absolute monsters."
"Watch your tone!" my father boomed, stepping out from the crowd of guests. Arthur Vance was a man accustomed to buying compliance. As a retired municipal judge who still pulled strings behind the scenes, he believed his word was law. "Your sister did what was necessary to instill discipline in a disrespectful child. Now pick up your brat and get off my property before I have you thrown out."
"You won't have to throw us out," I said, my voice unnaturally steady as I scooped Leo into my arms, ignoring the blood soaking my own blouse. "Because you will never, ever see us again."
Arthur laughed—a booming, dismissive sound that echoed across the yard. "Without my financial support, you and that bastard child would be starving on the street within a week! You’ll come crawling back by Tuesday."
May you like
I didn't answer. I carried my son straight to my dented sedan, locked the doors, and drove away from the mansion. But as I looked in the rearview mirror at Leo's brave, tear-streaked face, I made a silent vow.
They thought they had broken us. They had no idea they had just declared war on a ghost.
