Lord and Lady Malcolm took their place in the front row while making sure to keep their son between them.
Adoption should have been a simple process, Enid Malcolm thought painfully, and yet because there were too many unhappy people in the world, their child had to be subjected to a trial by publicity.
Enid kissed her son’s head. “Remember what I told you.”
A rare smile touched his too-serious face. “Never mention that you’re gaining weight?”
Her heart squeezed. “You made a joke.” She wanted to cry. He had never made a joke in the past. Never.
He whispered under his breath, “I wouldn’t have if I had known it would make you cry.”
“Oh God, now you’re going to make me ruin my makeup.”
As she sniffed her tears back, her son said quietly, “No matter what, Mother, thank you.”
She pinched his cheeks, the first time she had ever done so, and Reid’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “That will teach you, trying to act more mature than your mother. How terribly impolite, and to think I thought I taught you better.”
Releasing his cheeks, she gave her son a watery smile. “I love you, son. No matter what, your father and I will never let go of you. Never.”
She wanted to say so much more, but the judge had arrived, and there was no more time.
Sooner than later, what she dreaded came to be, and Reid’s request to make his own appeal in front of the court was heard. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her boy, but she also knew that he could look so cold and hard sometimes, it was unlikely he would win anyone’s hearts. There was also the fact that he was his late father’s spitting image, and for those who had died under Rodrigo Chalkias’ hands, that was never a good thing.
Heart in her throat, she watched Reid enter the box and take the witness stand. Afterwards, he glanced at the judge, surprising both Enid and Payton when he asked the judge, “Your Honor, may I remain on my feet while I speak?”
As the judge considered the request, Enid glanced at her husband. “What do you think he’s planning? D-do you know about this?”
He slowly shook his head, both of them thinking the same thing. If this was something that Reid had prepared on his own, then it could make or break his case. And if their boy ended up saying the wrong thing—-
He was just thirteen years old, damn them. Enid’s strength left her at the thought of what could happen, and she leaned against Payton for support. “I’m so scared,” she admitted shakily.
“I am, too.” Payton’s voice was tight. Kissing his wife’s hair, he whispered, “But we need to believe in him. And in us. I don’t think we’re the type to raise idiots, do you?”
She choked back a teary laugh. “N-no. I d-don’t.”
The judge finally gave his assent to Reid, and Enid swallowed as Reid pulled out a badly crumpled set of papers from the pocket of his formal jacket.
Reid began to read.
My name is Reid Chalkias. My biological parents were Andrea Gomez, born in Sicily, and Rodrigo Chalkias, born in Sparta, Greece. My mother, Andrea, was born to a family whose business was rooted in organized crime. According to my father, it was only when he was about my age now that he found out what his grandfather and father had chosen to involve themselves in.
When my mother discovered she was pregnant, she and my father began making plans to cut their ties to their families. They wanted a different future for me.
But they also knew it was not going to be easy, and so in the years that passed, my parents continued to be involved in their family’s crimes.
I neither condone nor condemn my parents for their participation. I don’t know what I would do in their position, and my father’s sacrifice has spared me from having to make such a decision.
When I was seven, the island we lived in was placed under attack. It was a war between two gangs, and my mother was one of the victims. Her death hit us hard, my father more so and now, in hindsight, it’s become clear to me that this was about the time that my father decided to alter his plans.
Originally, it was supposed to be my father and me escaping the family’s connections.
When one of my uncles kidnapped Lord and Lady Malcolm from their yacht a year later, my father saw it as an opportunity to make his move. He freed them in exchange of securing their promise that they would take me under their wing as well as keep Igor as my unofficial guardian.
When the family learned of my father’s actions, war broke out. What transpired afterwards is common knowledge, and I, too, have read the same incident reports and insider accounts. They say my father was ruthlessly methodical as he destroyed the family from within and after that, he went after the other gangs that could have even the smallest reason to come after him – or me.
In the final encounter, the remaining gangs had agreed to a temporary alliance to take my father down. My father was prepared for this. When they came for him, he was not alone. He had the police with him.
People died.
A lot.
My father included.
When news of my father’s death reached me, it came with a letter that the authorities had found in his pocket. He had not been able to finish it, but what he was able to write would remain forever with me.
Enid watched her son pause to swallow convulsively, and she swallowed her own sobs back, wanting to be strong for him just as he was doing his best to
