Novel The Son Novels & Stories

"Yes and more which you'd find out from the chip-Son, you have to go now, they'd come in here any moment, go!." He shook his head stubbornly "No papa, come with me." "I can't son, I need to take care of things. You're my only child left, you need to live. go son " he pushed him towards a wall and touched his palm on the wall, it opened revealing an elevator. He pushed him inside "Remember, you're my son, a mafia lord and the rightful heir to the Donahue empire. Trust no one but yourself." He pressed a button and the elevator closed up and begin to move down but the boy stop it, he ran out of it

Now, he finally wanted to be here with his son, but he couldn't find him anywhere. Bruce sagged to the ground on the side of the path, burying his face in his hands. He was just now realizing that some wounds don't just fade away. They're recorded, one by one, tallied up like a debt. Waiting for the day it all comes due, with interest. As evening fell, he saw a mother and son by a restaurant. The mother wore a white shirt; the pup had a blue backpack. They looked just like Avril and Leo from behind.

Engaging in the kind of underground operations that governments pretended not to see and competitors prayed not to notice. And to survive all of it, I created simple rules. Unbreakable even by me. No women looking for marriage. No romantics. No complications. Eleanor was all that. Which made her an anomaly. An irritation. A disruption in the clean architecture of my order. No wonder she affected me like this. I forced in a slow breath. Regardless of how I felt, Luca was still my son. Our relationship had become strained long before tonight—after the divorce—-and I was not proud to admit that but he was still my blood. And she… she was supposed to be his future.

"Did you do this to my son, Sophie?!" I caught her wrist, and she frowned from the pain as I had used a little too much force. "Mrs. Jameson." I released her hand and took a step back. "Your son contracted a sexually-transmitted disease, which his newlywed wife, Rita Sloane, transmitted to him. Do you need me to give you a copy of his medical report?" Her face turned pale instantly, while Scott's father leaned against the wall, looking as if he had aged ten years. "Scott… Is it true that he…" His voice quivered.

Because you are on that idiot's side, don't think I won't be able to do anything," he told Rasmore. "Mind your tongue, Aura." "Watch the way you speak to our Alpha, or else you won't like it." Sonny chirped in to warn him. "What the fuck, Sonny?" Even you? "The person I raised?" He asked, not believing it. Sonny was like a son to him. Twenty years ago, he found him crying on the street. He was left laying on the city's bench with a letter folded in his tiny pink hands: "For whoever will find my boy, please take care of him." When he grows up, tell him his mother couldn't take care of him and that he should find a place in his heart to forgive her. "Do tell him that; we shall meet in heaven."

Not even the smallest sliver of attention. Everything he had to give, he'd given to Carson. And me—his actual son—he had left to fend for myself in the shadows, clinging to whatever scraps of existence I could find in the cracks of this family. And just like that, the anger drained from him. He fell silent. The assistant jumped in quickly, trying to smooth things over. "Mr. Wheeler, maybe we should transfer him some money? He might come back if he sees it." My father considered it, then waved a hand. "Fine. Send him five thousand."

Mother said evenly, as if we were negotiating a treaty she hadn’t wanted to win. “I promised I would,” I said. It didn’t help that I said it without shaking. That in itself was a small victory. Father looked more steely. “Without Sampson.” The name was a gauntlet tossed across a divide. “Yes,” I said. I did not hedge. “Without him.” “That tale,” she said, cutting. “The story you brought home from that school. From that asylum. It doesn’t tally with the son we raised.” Their son. Not your brother. Not the defector. Not the man who had tried to weaponize me.

He‍ fl‌ips slowly through the⁠ worn pages o‌f Matthe⁠w’s fa‌vorite b‌ook, reading quietly about the silly adventures of a loud, mis‌chievous puppy. My heart stutters pain⁠full‌y in my che‍st. It‌ feels like it might sh⁠attered or maybe it alr‍eady has, this cannot be r‌eal. My son should not look like t‍his beside a‌ man li‌ke him. He should not b‍e soothed by a mobster’s voice, lulled into safet⁠y by‌ hands⁠ that have known violence and yet… he is.

Nova's arms arched firmly above her waist, her eyes glaring firmly at Zephyr. She just couldn't place what was happening around her. First, it was Eryx and his lies, and now Zephyr even has a son. “So you have a son?” She inquired firmly, her voice echoing with so much urgency. She was obviously tired of being left in the dark. Nova was already having a strange feeling about the boy after that hug. But the revelation that he was his son drove a rather insulting stick down her spine.

"Dylan Skinner, you're under investigation for intentional harm and illegal organ trafficking. You need to come with us." My mother's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's impossible! My son just had a kidney transplant. He was only discharged today. How could he hurt anyone, let alone traffic organs?" My father shook his head, looking at Dylan lying pale on the bed. "My son has been weak since he was a kid. He barely even socializes. How would he have the chance to do something like that? You've got the wrong person!" Janice's voice trembled as she spoke. "Then can you tell me where Curtis is right now?"