Chapter 289: Son of the snake
Flashback – 23 Years Ago
Author POV
Thomas took the treacherous, sudden bullet right in the middle of his abdon. His broad fra shuddered violently, and he doubled forward, his features contorted in agony before he crashed heavily onto the hard wooden floor. His fingers clamped down, pressing with intense force over the bleeding wound, his palm instantly soaked in the thick, crimson rush of blood.
At the echoing boom of the second terrifying blast, the mansion’s tranquility shattered, and one of the guards burst through the door in pure panic, weapon drawn. The mont his eyes landed on this grueso display of corpses, he froze in his tracks like a stunned animal, his eyes darting frantically between the dead body and the shaking child. But Thomas, despite his continuous bleeding and burning pain, barked at the guard in a choked, cracked, and wheezing voice as he fought for air: "Move, you idiot! Take that fucking weapon from Robert’s hand right now... wipe it clean of fingerprints, then place it back into dead Elizabeth’s hand!" Even as he hovered between life and death, Thomas was trembling with sheer terror for the fate of his young son, desperately trying to shield him from the abyss of prison and a murder charge.
Only a few minutes passed before ambulances and police cruisers rushed to the scene, their flashing red and blue lights painting the walls of the mansion. The paradics advanced swiftly, administering imdiate first aid to Thomas. A quick examination revealed that the abdominal wound wasn’t fatal and had missed the major arteries. They loaded him quickly onto the canvas stretcher and sped away toward the hospital to extract the bullet lodged deep within his entrails.
anwhile, the police completely cordoned off the cri scene. Forensic experts began dusting white powder over handles and furniture to lift prints and gather evidence, subsequently moving Elizabeth’s cold, blood-slicked body into a black body bag amidst the frantic wailing of the young boys.
On the other side of the city, far removed from this living hell, Violet stood firmly before her bed, packing a large leather suitcase in an obvious, frantic rush to flee toward the countryside and escape the peering eyes. Her mother entered the room with tense, anxious steps, rubbing her palms together as she approached, whispering in a cautious tone: "I’ve arranged everything... I bought redith a fake belly made of stuffed fabric. She will wear it from this day on in front of the neighbors and people so she appears as the pregnant one."
Violet didn’t even turn toward her mother, nor did she bother to reply or comnt. Instead, she continued zipping her suitcase with a chilling, suspicious coldness that mirrored the hardness of her heart. Early the next morning, she packed the rest of her belongings and traveled far out into the countryside, where her grandmother’s old, isolated house stood nestled amidst the farmlands.
The months of pregnancy passed heavily and slowly upon her shoulders as she endured this voluntary exile, until the critical mont of labor finally arrived. Sharp, violent contractions erupted through her entire body, and she writhed across the mattress for hours, ultimately giving birth to an incredibly beautiful, striking baby boy. He was a child with skin as stark white as snow, fine blonde hair matching that of his father, Snake, and srizing green eyes that perfectly mirrored Violet’s own. This secret birth took place within the walls of the old mud-brick house, where her grandmother had summoned an old midwife from the village to deliver the child in absolute secrecy, devoid of any legal registration.
Once everything settled, the grandmother approached with gentle, heavy steps, wrapping the infant in a warm woolen cloth. She extended her wrinkled hands, presenting the firstborn son to her, saying with deep emotion: "Take him into your arms, Violet... look how beautiful he is."
But Violet turned her face toward the concrete wall with blatant disgust and aversion, saying in a dry, harsh tone completely devoid of any maternal affection: "Get that thing away from right now... I don’t want it, and I can’t stand the sight of it!"
She didn’t touch his soft skin with the tips of her fingers, she didn’t hold him to her chest to nurse even once, and she didn’t cradle him in her arms for a single second. She treated this tiny, silent body as if it hadn’t erged from her own flesh, as if it hadn’t grown inside her womb for nine entire months.
The grandmother knitted her brows in deep disapproval, pressing the infant to her chest in a protective panic against the chilling coldness of her granddaughter. She barked: "What is wrong with you, girl?! How does a heart explode with this much cruelty?! Why are you treating your own child like an enemy?"
Violet replied, closing her eyes with absolute, ice-cold indifference: "I’ve given you my final word... I don’t want him in my life. Take him away from and don’t bother with him again!"
The grandmother let out a helpless, bitter sigh, looking with pity at the sleeping face of the little one nestled close to her. She asked in a low voice: "Fine... as you wish. But tell , what do you want to na him?"
Violet waved her hand through the air carelessly, without casting a single glance toward the baby or her grandmother, saying with complete apathy: "I have nothing to do with his na or title. Legally and before society, this boy will be redith’s son, not mine!"
The grandmother shook her head in sorrow and grief over the fate of the poor soul, saying: "Fine, I will choose a na for him myself to honor the mory... his na will be Steve, after your late grandfather. What do you think of that?"
Violet answered in a dead, flat, and indifferent tone as she pulled the covers over herself: "That matter rests solely with you, grandmother. Na him whatever the fuck you want, it won’t change a thing."
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