Loving the son I swore to destroy

EliasThe cemetery stood on a quiet stretch of land at the edge of the city. Inside its iron gates, rows of polished marble headstones caught the morning sun. Fresh flowers rested on neatly trimmed graves, and families moved carefully between them with buckets of water and small gardening tools. Some stood in silence while others laughed softly as they shared old memories with the people they had lost.My parents weren't buried there.I walked past the entrance without slowing down and followed the narrow path running alongside the cemetery wall. The farther I went, the fewer people I saw. The paved walkway led to a dry, uneven ground covered with stubborn weeds.At the end of the path lay two simple mounds of earth with no marble or carved names. No flowers left behind by visitors too.Just two weathered wooden crosses standing side by side.Victor Vance and Grace Vance.The names had almost faded completely. No cemetery in the city had wanted my father after he died in prison. The a

Elias POVMorning had always been my favorite time of day. The city hadn't fully woken up yet, and for a little while, it felt like the world forgot who I was.I opened the window above the sink and let the cool breeze drift into my tiny apartment. The first thing I did every morning was water the potted jasmine sitting on the windowsill.It had belonged to my mother. I wasn't particularly good with plants, but this one had somehow survived years of my inconsistent care."You're tougher than you look," I murmured, pouring the last of the water into the pot. I made myself two slices of toast, fried an egg, and ate while reading the day's schedule on my phone.Nothing unusual. A restoration project in the morning and an authentication appointment after lunch.I washed my plate, grabbed my satchel, and locked the apartment behind me. The familiar orange stray cat was already waiting beside the front steps."You're early."It meowed once. I smiled and crouched to place a small packet of c

Elias' POVThe auction house felt quieter than usual Or maybe I was the one who saw it that way. I stood at my workbench, carefully brushing dust from the edge of a seventeenth-century manuscript while trying very hard not to think about the man who had walked into my workspace yesterday and turned an ordinary afternoon into something I still couldn't explain."You've been staring at that page for the longest time now."Mrs. Holloway's amused voice pulled me back to the present. I looked up and found her smiling at me from the next workbench. She had worked at the auction house longer than anyone else, and despite insisting she was close to retirement every year, she never seemed any closer to leaving."I have not," I said.She shook her head, then set down the antique frame she had been cleaning and folded her arms."Yesterday's client?"I hesitated for only a second before nodding. "He wasn't exactly easy to please."Mrs. Holloway chuckled softly. "One difficult client doesn't erase