The door opened. His mother, Helen, stood there, older, thinner, her eyes shining with something between relief and shame. Before she could speak, a man pushed past her—a broad-shouldered stranger with a shaved head and a scowl carved deep into his face.
“Who the hell are you?” the man demanded.
“I’m Alex. Her son.”
The man’s lip curled with contempt. “Not anymore.”
Before Alex could react, the man’s fist collided with his jaw. Pain exploded across his face as he staggered back, tasting blood. Helen screamed his name, but the man—Richard, apparently her new husband—blocked her with his arm.
“This is my house now,” Richard spat. “You don’t belong here.”
Alex wiped his mouth, his pulse hammering. “It’s not your house,” he said quietly.
Richard laughed. “Says who?”
Alex straightened, his voice steady despite the adrenaline shaking his limbs. “Says the ownership papers. The ones Grandfather signed over to me before I left.”
