Chapter 1: The Price of Being His Father's Son
“DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH THAT! YOU HAVEN'T EARNED IT!””
The slap echoed across the dining room.
Fourteen-year-old Jordan Williams jerked his hand away from the roasted chicken, his fingers trembling as he stared at the red mark spreading across his knuckles.
His stepmother, Vanessa, stood beside him, gripping a serving spoon like a weapon.
“GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!”” she screamed.
Nobody moved.
The dining table was covered with mashed potatoes, green beans, freshly baked biscuits, and a golden roasted chicken. The smell had filled the house for nearly an hour.
But Jordan hadn't eaten anything.
His father, Marcus Williams, slowly lowered his fork.
“Vanessa,” he said, his voice tightening.
“What the hell is wrong with you?””
Vanessa turned toward him with an offended expression.
“Don't start, Marcus. Your son knows exactly what he did.””
Marcus glanced at Jordan.
“Jordan, what's going on?””
The boy stared at his plate. His stomach growled loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“I haven't paid Vanessa my rent money this month, Dad.””
Marcus blinked.
For a moment, he seemed unable to understand the words.
“Your what?””
“My rent money,” Jordan repeated quietly.
“It's due on the first.””
Marcus pushed his chair backward.
“Why is my fourteen-year-old son paying rent in his own home?””
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“Because children need to learn responsibility. I refuse to raise a spoiled little boy who thinks everything is handed to him.””
Marcus stared at her.
“And what about your children?””
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“My children are different.””
“Different how?””
“Those are MY children, Marcus! They don't have to pay anything!””
At the other end of the table, Vanessa's sixteen-year-old daughter, Madison, continued scrolling through her phone. Her twelve-year-old son, Tyler, was eating his second chicken thigh.
Jordan watched Tyler lick barbecue sauce from his fingers.
He hadn't eaten since breakfast.
Marcus looked from Tyler's full plate to his son's empty one.
Then he slammed his palm against the table.
“THIS IS MY HOUSE! NOBODY HAS TO PAY RENT HERE!””
The silverware jumped.
“IF MY SON HAS TO PAY FOR LIVING UNDER THIS ROOF, THEN YOU AND YOUR TWO CHILDREN CAN PAY ME FOR EVERY YEAR YOU'VE LIVED HERE!””
Vanessa's face went pale.
“Marcus, you're embarrassing me!””
“You embarrassed yourself when you slapped my child!””
“I barely touched him!””
“You hit his hand because he reached for dinner!””
“He hasn't paid!””
Marcus pointed toward the front door.
“Either pay what you owe or get out of MY house!””
Vanessa's lips parted, but no words came out.
Then an elderly woman sitting quietly beside the window placed her glass of water on the table.
Evelyn Williams, Marcus's seventy-two-year-old mother, had barely spoken throughout dinner.
Now she smiled.
“Son, this little rent issue is nothing compared to what this woman has been doing behind your back.””
Vanessa dropped her fork.
CLATTER!
“EVELYN, DON'T YOU DARE!””
Marcus slowly turned toward his mother.
“Mom?””
Evelyn reached beside her chair and picked up a thick brown envelope.
“I've been waiting for the right moment to show you something.””
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Give me that!””
Evelyn pulled the envelope closer to her chest.
“No, dear. You've had fourteen months to tell the truth. Tonight, your husband gets to hear it.””
Marcus looked at the envelope.
“What truth?””
Evelyn opened it and removed several printed bank statements.
Then she placed one photograph on the table.
Marcus picked it up.
His expression changed instantly.
It showed Jordan standing outside a neighborhood grocery store, wearing a thin jacket in freezing weather, holding a handwritten cardboard sign.
But that wasn't what made Marcus's hands begin to shake.
It was the date printed beneath the photograph.
And the name of the person who had taken it.
*Vanessa.*
“Mom,” Marcus whispered.
“Why does my wife have a picture of my son begging for money?””
Evelyn looked directly at Vanessa.
“Because she wasn't just collecting rent from him, Marcus.””
She paused.
“She was making him earn the money in ways you would never forgive.””
Vanessa lunged for the photograph.
But Evelyn had already turned over the next page.
And Marcus saw the first bank transfer.
It was for $450.
May you like
Every month.
For fourteen consecutive months.
