Chapter 3: PRODIGAL SON RETURNS

(THREE MONTHS AFTER THE SHOOTING)

(DANIEL)

“Murderer!”

THUMP!!!

Papa’s fist pummels into my face. Pain lances across my cheek, but it's little compared to the one in my soul.

Three months since I pulled the trigger, and I haven’t forgotten a second. I still see Gloria’s empty eyes glaring at me, tears coating her cheeks, with blood in my hand.

Mama hates me, but won’t let me rot in jail. Papa? Hatred is an understatement. Still, he didn’t just get me out. He erased the crime entirely. No trial. No record. Gloria and Gareth’s deaths were ruled as murder-suicide. Gareth killed Gloria, then himself. The perfect cover.

Only Mama, Papa, and I know the truth.

“You Faggot!” My Father, Douglas Cooper, barks in his Scottish accent. “You want a promotion after killing my daughter?! Forming a committee to support your parole. You sure have the nerves, boy.”

I’ve been back at Douglas and family conglomerate for a week now. The employees bring me coffee at 8 am, small talk, and respect. If they knew what I did, they'd be worse than my parents.

“You’ve seen my track record. You’ve seen what I can do.” I dare not say this, but I want a distraction, since moving on has been impossible. “I want to join the board. I—”

“Hold your tongue, Daniel!” Mama appears before me. Those emerald eyes that used to sparkle when they saw me. Now they flame like embers, threatening to smolder me. “The only thing

you’re getting from this company is cold treatment, and I hope you freeze from everything you’ve done. How dare you?”

My heart ruptures, bit by bit, until breathing feels like war. “I—”

“You paltry little upstart.” Mama snarls. “Isn’t it enough that you killed your sister? You want to ruin our heritage, too. Decades of work and sacrifice from our fathers and those before. You want to kill Douglas and family?”

I shut my eyes, bite my lips, and turn away. The words strangle from my throat. “I-I thought you’ve moved on. Isn’t that why you freed me?”

Mama huffs a bitter laugh. “Moved on?” she shakes her head. “You’ll leave to suffer for what you did to Gloria. Vengeance shall come, but it will not be us who give it to you.”

“There are many ways to break a man without killing him,” Papa’s eyes taper to slits. “You’ll feel over wrath through his hands and suffer with every breath you take. For you’re not our son, but a curse. You’ve brought nothing but shame and disgrace upon us.” Papa's voice breaks. “What kind of man gets bent over? When did you start wearing make-up?”

Papa turns to Mama. “Your son is wearing a pink watch.”

I want to curl into a ball and disappear.

The shame is too much to bear.

“Douglas.” Mama’s eyes glisten. “He’s still our son…”

Papa shoves Mama like a ragdoll. “An English cock sucker. That’s what you gave me! Fucked and be tossed.”

I deserve everything. Yes, it hurts, but it’s the truth. I’m a disgrace.

“England bred men like King Henry the Fourth. Charles Brandon. And even till date, we have

Alpha fucking men. Real men, Boy. Not murderers or dussies wearing pink watches!” Papa’s nostrils flare. “Arrgh—is that strawberry perfume? God, what did you give me?!”

My chest knots.

Is there anything wrong with strawberry perfume?

It hits me before I can speak. Slow, sticky, reeking of whiskey. Papa’s saliva gliding down my face.

Mama palms her face, sobbing. If I lock eyes with the employees, I’ll break. I want to kill myself.

“You’re not my son, hole!” Papa snarls, wiping his hairy hand across his lips. “Never.”

Before I can speak, Papa taps his cane twice on the ground. The door creaks open, and footsteps thud behind me.

I spin, locking eyes with him.”Who the fuck are you?”

My question hangs in the air. The man ignores me like I’m nothing in my Papa’s own company. He sure has some guts that I’m ready to rip off.

“Arden,” Papa’s face brightens. “Come here, my son.”

My chest twists.

Did I just hear, son?!

No fucking way.

“Ma, what is he talking about?”

The fucker replies me. “You’re not deaf, are you?”

“Move an inch. I’ll strip you bare and toss you in the streets,” Mama’s words hit me like an

arrow. “He’s our son now. Arden God's covenant. Oxford-educated. Business Strategist. And as of today, legally adopted into the Douglas family as the Ceo And most importantly—”

“The heir to this empire.” Adren finishes. His smirk makes my skin crawl. “And your new boss.”

I eye the trio, shake my head, and laugh. “You must be joking.”

Papa’s cane cracks on tile. “Accept him or leave!”

“Papa…” I croak out. “Y-You’re giving my inheritance to a stranger. Me. Your son. Daniel. Papa?”

Papa’s gaze hardens, but he says nothing. Mama glares at my neck. She can’t even look me in the eyes.

Getting me out of jail is mercy, but taking my birthright? That’s cruel.

‘What’s cruel is killing your sister,’ a voice whispers in my head.

Tears burn my eyes. I let the first drop fall. Another. Until it floods my cheek.

I have contacts. I can tear this motherfucker. Have him disappear. But I’ll do none of that, because this is KARMA. I fucking deserve it.

I bit my lip and dip my head to the bastard. “Boss. Arden, sir.”

“Good boy,” Arden grins. “Make me coffee, be in my office in five. One minute late, I’ll punish you.”

My parents' faces remain blank. I catch the empl

oyees peeking through the door from. While I, a slave in my own kingdom. And an imposter from Oxford. A ne’er-do-well in the midst of the elite. Now the heir to the Douglas Empire.

Pocketing my hand, I bow, heading for the door. “Yes, sir.”

Fuck Karma. Not even the devil can snatch my birthright. Over my dead body.