Novel & Cerita Son Of Spider-man

When the janitor appeared from the side of the building and neared the gazebo, broom in-hand, Jeff understood it was pure luck. “My son is nothing like you. Don’t try to corrupt him into something he’s not.” He kept his voice low. Jeff massaged his throat and forced out the words. “You believe I want to make your son a spider?” The man shocked him by laughing. “A spider? You think that’s what I care about?” His laughter turned icy. “Keep your hands off my boy. If I ever see you again . . . ” He pointed his finger. He didn’t have to finish the sentence. The message was clear.

My lips parted in a surprise Even though his face was not completely healed, I could recognize his face, his scent, and his aura. It was the Bastard, and he is the son of my mother.

"So you are the Son of a Dragon Lord?" He corrected me. "Secret son of the Dragon Lord. He never knew about my existence until recently. It's the reason why I couldn't contact you after you left the hotel. When I came out of the inner bedroom, you had already left. I wanted to find you but realized I was emitting strange powers. I didn't know what it was and I didn't want to scare you. I went to my late mother's cottage to meet her ghost but now she's gone forever. She told me about my father for the first time and told me to help him in a war between the Dragons and werewolves. A lot happened but even my father decided that my identity should remain a secret. You should tell no one."

My son. Reality finally set in, and I slumped backward into my chair. Jasper was my son. Impossible to deny, a truth that would come with the weight of a responsibility not quite sure I was ready for. Finally, my father would get what he had wanted this whole time: a grandchild, an heir to carry on with the name of Draven. What he didn't fathom, though, was the price coming with it. The mafia wasn't dangerous, it was deadly. If Camilla and Jasper ever came into my real world, they would be exposed to all manner of things. Now they were in danger.

I can tell the difference in their voices but I know I wont be able to recognize their faces. “Why didn't you say this earlier?!” Jargo yells, his voice vibrating the peeling structure. “it all came this night. He is the son of the snake's leader. Marco Sidorov. He's the youngest son. The older son is our other captive. He goes Andrey by name.” “We need back up. We have to be ready to strike. We have the upper hand since we chose the venue. Get everything set.” Jargo continues, as I hear his pacing steps, followed by the shattering of glass.

“He hasn’t done anything. In fact, I haven’t even seen him these past few days. He’s rarely around. Unlike his son.” “Son?” came my father’s confused reply. I let out a small, nervous laugh. “Apparently, the mafia king has a little boy. He calls me ‘Mama.’ It’s… strange.” The line went silent for a moment as I brushed my hair and sat at the vanity. My reflection looked composed—a stark lie my frantic pulse betrayed. “I-I’m sorry, Rachel,” Dad said suddenly, his voice cracking. “This is all my fault.”

No, no, no— let this not be how they know each other. Before I could finally run, Luca turned to where I stood, and motioned me over with a bright smile. “Babe!” he called. “Come here. I want you to meet my father.” He was the Sebastian Rossi? Luca’s father? The world blurred and I felt my heart drop straight into my stomach and die there.

“I’m your son!” Maximoff turned to face him, his eyes calm but hardened with resolve. He seemed unfazed by Kieran’s outburst, and the crowd quieted, sensing the weight of what was about to be revealed. “You are my son, Kieran,” Maximoff said evenly, his voice a low, steady rumble, “but you’re not the only child I have.” The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, faces turning toward Maximoff with expressions of bewilderment and shock. No one had anticipated what he would say next.

Lowering his head, he said softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't call you 'Dad' anymore. I came today to give the company back to you." I stood up and walked over to him. "Jon, I understand how you feel. But I want you to know something. Whether we're related by blood or not, I've always treated you as my own son. Otherwise, I never would've entrusted the company to you." His eyes immediately reddened. "But my biological father did so many terrible things. Doesn't it bother you that I'm his son?" "There's no denying that William was your father. But so what? He was him, and you are you. All I know is that I raised you myself. Nothing else matters."

Mom always told me, "Your stomach's weak, you can't handle too much of it." It wasn't until much later that I understood — it wasn't that I couldn't eat it. She just didn't want to give me any. My voice came out cold. "I'm not going." Her tears spilled over all at once. "Ryan, how did you turn into this? That's your father!" I looked at her. "Does he even know I'm his son? When I had two ribs broken, you know what he said? He said, 'Looks like the lesson hasn't sunk in yet.'"