Strongest Abandoned Son Mga Nobela at Kwento

I came across a cage-fight livestream on the dark web. A girl was being forced to fight a vicious dog. Her clothes were torn, and her arms and legs were covered in blood. I couldn't bear to watch. I ordered the stream shut down. She looked about my daughter's age. Ten years earlier, when my daughter was born, I'd stepped back from everything to raise her. I handed the Lorenzi family's four most important operations to my four adopted sons. I'd raised every one of them myself. They were ruthless, capable, and each could hold his own. But with my daughter, all that toughness disappeared. If she so much as frowned, they'd spend ages coaxing a smile out of her. A second before the stream cut out

“Shut up, you bastard! You know nothing! Nothing at all!” The guard clicked his tongue when we got into the room. “See that shitty attitude? You are a hopeless case, Sinclair. No wonder your son abandoned you. Good for him. He’s finally free from you. Being associated with you would only bring him shame and agony.” I pushed him against the wall. I could feel all my veins about to burst when I screamed, “Enough!” The guard narrowed his eyes. “You son of a bitch!”

The old man ordered, turning to walk towards the dressing room. “So this is it, you pick a slut over your own son?" Tristain smiled painfully. "Son?" The old man laughed awkwardly. “Thank your stars your mother is late; she would have taken you back to your father because you're definitely not my blood." The old man spat. "Dad!" “You bastard, leave my presence this minute." He ordered him; the message was clear: he picked me over his son. I smiled in satisfaction. "Dad, this is unfair." Tristain protested, his eyes turned red, and tears gathered.

He was his father’s only son in charge of the multi billion dollar business across the majority of the states. And Celine, the road trips. The whispered promises. The long shifts at the hospital where Celine, my best friend, covered for me just so I could race to Jeremy for dinner. The nights I stayed with her, crying about him pulling away, and she stroked my hair and swore she’d never let anyone hurt me. My stomach twisted violently.

That name landed heavily. Even Clara reacted. Because Adrian was known only in sealed family whispers: the younger son— reckless, brilliant, dangerous, erased after internal conflict. Roman looked at Victor. “Your cousin becomes your—what exactly are we calling this now?” No one answered. Because Marina was no longer hearing side commentary. She stared at the old man. “My mother said my father abandoned us.” The old man closed his eyes briefly. “He was killed before he could choose.” That sentence shattered what little resistance she still held.

“Do you keep in touch with the bastard?” Abby gave him a bitter look. “Would you?” “If it were up to me, I’d bury the dickhead after putting a bullet between his eyes.” The tension in Max had Abby bracing for his next words. “Did he hurt you in other ways, Abs?” Abby knew what he meant and shook her head. “Not like that, but it doesn’t make me hate him any less. It was always about Jimmy, always concerned for himself. His path in the world was the most righteous, his greediness and how others saw him. It was never about his wife or child. I haven’t seen them since the day I left. I lived in Southern Africa from eleven to sixteen years of age. When we went back to Idaho for a six-month stint,

He was ready for whatever was to come, and he would stop at nothing to get his son back. Alpha Aiden trudged through the overgrown vegetation, the weight of his mission heavy on his heart. He had received a cryptic message from the kidnappers of his son, directing him to an abandoned building deep in the wilderness. The journey had been grueling, but Alpha Aiden was determined to find his son and bring him home.

Mr Williamson pats his son's back, the back never bends with any situation, the back which holds straight his dignity, his attitude, his demeanor, now is reaching the floor, heartbreakingly. To surprise more, Mr Williamson feels the shaky body of his son. And this time, his eyes widen, finding Marquis sobbing gripping his hair tightly. " Marquis! Is her situation that bad? Look at Dad. I don't know what happened. But I want you to stay strong. For your kids, at least!" Marquis crying is like a devastating uncertain situation for Mr Williamson who never saw his son crying. Even when his mother almost died once. He is a strong-hearted person. Now, seeing how his son is crying, he has realised.

The tension between both sides of the call thickened again. Adele was beginning to grow tired of all this. Because now— It wasn’t only Leonard losing control anymore. Sebastian was starting to change too. “I don’t care what you think about me,” Leonard said coldly. “The important thing is that I’m finally free now.” Sebastian almost smiled at that. “Free?” A dangerous glint crossed his eyes. “You just abandoned the mother of your child in a remote village days after she gave birth,” Sebastian continued. “And you call that freedom?”

He glanced at Sophia on the bed, who looked weak enough to expire at any moment, and his gaze instantly softened. "But Sophia can't. She's too fragile. She's pregnant, and that is my firstborn son." "She and the child need this protection more than you do." I looked at the man in front of me. How righteously he spoke. Because I was strong, I deserved to be abandoned? Because she was weak, she could rightfully steal everything from me? I slapped his hands away, took two steps back, and leaned against the cold wall. Blood from my forehead dripped onto the pristine white floor tiles, blooming into glaring red flowers.