Son Of The Slob Novels & Stories

He touched my tummy and then stared at my face. "So bad we lost this little dude." Oh, I get it now. The doctor had already broken the news to him. Indeed Joanna said it, he looked devastated. "We did? Oh my god." I said and placed my hand on my Tommy. Tears welled up In my eyes, I cried like my life depended on it. Joanna smiled from behind but I didn't ignore her and continued with my tears. "Serena did this, she's the reason I lost my son. Honey, she's the reason we lost our heir." I said as tears kept rolling down my cheek.

"Go and see your mother, you must hold her hand. Maybe, after you have done that, she will open her eyes to welcome her beloved son." Mother... Is the woman sleeping in the ice room just now, is she my mother. Lucifer only tells about Ozgur Doğan, he never tells about my mother's life in detail. Even my mother's face was never shown by Lucifer. "No problem, if you don't want to acknowledge me as your father. At least do one good thing for us. Please be a good son to your mother. Then I will give all my property to you." He looked at me intensely, but I knew he was disappointed in me.

He fell on his knees, and his dad, Lord Lucifer, grabbed his face. "You are Vincenzo West Pecaminoso… Son of Sin. You will only act like your father. You are my puppet. I gave you life; I made you. I could have let your mom abort you, but I didn’t. So you will act like me, do what I want you to do. I heard you when you said you would never hurt a woman. I won’t let you be a simp. You will kill your mom with a gun." He whispered.

Unlike most people would think, I, Dorian Hayes, wasn't ashamed of my childhood, no matter how wretched it was. Thinking he has the upper hand, Easton stepped closer, his eyes the same shade as Noah but way colder like a winter storm raked over me with disgust. "I just can't for the life of me imagine why my son would be involved with a thing like you. Your mother is a strung out junkie, shooting up whatever she can get her hands on. Your father didn't even stick around long enough to see you born. Raised in a trusted out trailer park, scraping by on handouts and pity. You're nothing. Less than nothing."

When he was broke, he would shamelessly ask his mother for money, all while trying to look important, but he was really just full of hot air. The more someone like him talked, the more they boasted. Spittle flying, he boasted, "Just look at Drake Hughes, the boss of the Sunshine Grand Hotel, the most famous big shot in Brownsville. He's a good friend of mine. We've shared drinks at the same table, and he treats me like a brother. None of you can say you've had that honor." Madam Faust doted on her youngest son endlessly. Even though he was a disappointment, he was still her darling boy. She happily handed over her entire pension for him to squander on his pleasures, always coddling him.

"You need to come home. Your father is dying." He should have said no, and ended the call, or thrown the phone across his pathetic studio apartment, and pretended he had never heard those words. Five years ago, Patriarch Michael Thorne had stood in the grand hall of the family estate and declared his eldest son dead to the Holy Order, dead to God, and dead to the bloodline that stretched back twelve generations of exorcists. Gabriel had been seventeen, broken, and desperate for understanding that never came.

"I just wanted Ms. Sulvan to be part of our family! "Ms. Sulvan is so nice, not like Mom, who wears those old pajamas every day with messy hair and doesn't look good at all! All my classmates laugh at me and say my mom looks like a maid!"

Tony With Matt and I getting out of business school and starting this new business, it’s been hard getting the capital to purchase all of the stuff needed to get our place up and running. I wish we were much farther along than we were, but shit happens. My deadbeat father was supposed to help out and be a financial backer for our company but decided that it wouldn’t be a good investment for him and pulled out. I didn’t want to bank on him helping us, but I knew Matt was really hoping he would come through because my sperm donor had the financial means to do so. And just like I assumed, he didn’t come through; I had been dealing with that all my life. That’s why my Mom moved on as soon as sh

The caption on the livestream was poison: "Rich wife fakes poverty, abandons husband and child, targets Harvard son." The comments were already a dumpster fire, class resentment and rage-bait all funneled directly at me. One comment in particular: "Anyone else notice the antlers in the background? I think that's a hint he got played. My money's on the HR guy. Rich girls always play dirty." "Walking out on her own son, this woman has no soul. I'd put that kid on a pedestal." "Harvard son and she still left? Something is very wrong with her."

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.'"