Chapter 1

The world can shatter in a single afternoon, the pieces too small to ever put back together.

Leo' s hand was warm in mine, sticky from the cotton candy we shared at the community fair.

He skipped, his bright blue backpack bouncing, chattering about the superhero bouncy house.

"Mommy, can we go again next week?"

"Maybe, sweetie," I said, smiling.

Then, a shadow fell over us.

A man, rough, his eyes empty, lunged from the alley.

I screamed, shoving Leo behind me.

Pain, sharp and blinding, tore through my side.

I twisted, trying to shield Leo with my body.

Another stab, then another.

I felt myself falling, my son' s small cry echoing.

My only thought was Leo. Protect Leo.

I clawed at the man, kicked, but he was strong.

Then, darkness.

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer.

Mark was there, his face a mask of panic.

"Sarah! Leo!"

He knelt beside me, his hands surprisingly gentle as he checked my wounds.

"The ambulance is almost here. You'll be okay."

He scooped Leo into his arms first. Leo was so still.

Then he helped the paramedics with me.

In the ambulance, the world swam.

Mark held my hand, his voice tight.

"Leo... Leo didn't make it, Sarah. He died on the way."

The words didn't make sense.

Leo. My Leo.

No.

At the hospital, they rushed me towards surgery.

A nurse tried to give me something, a sedative.

I felt the prick, but the usual fog didn't come. My mind stayed sharp, too sharp.

It was a strange family trait, this resistance to a lot of anesthetics, something I' d only joked about before. Now, it was a curse.

They wheeled me into a pre-op room. Mark stood by the door, talking to a doctor, Dr. Ramirez.

"Her son, Leo, he passed before we got here," Mark said, his voice flat, devoid of the grief I expected.

My heart seized. He said it so calmly.

Dr. Ramirez murmured something I couldn't catch.

Then Mark' s voice, colder now, "And Sarah... the internal damage is severe. Make sure... make sure she can't have any more children. Remove her uterus. It' s for the best."

My breath hitched. No. He couldn't.

The doctor sounded hesitant. "Are you certain, Mr. Thompson? With that kind of trauma..."

"I'm certain," Mark cut him off. "It's what she would want, to avoid future complications. It's the only way."

His phone buzzed. He stepped away slightly, his back to me, but I could still hear.

"Yeah, it's done," Mark muttered into the phone. "The kid is handled. The payment is on its way. Good work."

The kid. Handled.

Leo.

My son wasn't an accident. He was "handled."

And my body, my future, was being decided by the man who just arranged his murder.

A cold, black understanding settled in my soul. This wasn't grief. This was something else. This was the beginning of a war.