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The heckling started as soon as the thirteen-year-old boy stepped out of the limousine. Black-haired, green-eyed, and bronze skinned, he was a complete contrast to the dignified-looking British couple accompanying him.
“Send him back to hell,” someone in the crowd shouted.
“Demon spawn,” another yelled.
Bloodthirsty reporters snapped as many photos as they can, with the less ethical of them even feeding the crowd’s aggression as they began loudly throwing questions at the newcomers.
The sound of angrily spewed curses and insults hurled at the boy faded as he and his foster parents crossed the threshold of The Old Bailey. Uniformed guards immediately barred spectators from entering, but the rest of the media only had to present their badges to gain admittance.
They stalked the trio, their endless stream of questions only meant to provoke any of their targets into answering. Their objective was simple, and it wasn’t the truth they wanted. Instead, they craved anything sensational, and they were willing to cross all lines of decency to make it happen.
“Do you think it’s morally right to harbor a criminal’s offspring when thousands other innocent children die every minute?”
“Is this how you want the world to be, Lord Malcolm? Red carpet treatment for rich folks, and children with questionable lineage and connections are able to acquire British citizenship just because their parents took the right people as hostages?”
“Won’t this send the wrong message to criminals? Evil acts are rewarded, and children who may have already been permanently brainwashed are taken in without question?”
More questions followed, but they were silenced the moment the doors of the courtroom closed behind Lord and Lady Malcolm and the boy.
Lady Malcolm bent down, anxiously checking her son’s face. “Are you alright?”
He nodded.
Lord Malcolm ruffled his son’s head, saying gruffly, “Remember, we’re behind you all the way.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The formal tone made the normally mild-mannered Payton want to punch someone’s face. Reid had been living with them for over five years, but even now the guarded look in his green eyes remained, and he knew that it was the boy’s way of protecting himself. Life had taught Reid that at any moment, his life could change, and whatever happiness he enjoyed could be taken away by those with greater strength – or evil.
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 be strong.
His gaze still on the paper he was reading, her son said hoarsely, “I welcome death with a smile, knowing that you can lead a life that your mother and I have always dreamed for you.”
Slowly, Reid looked up, his fierce green gaze meeting everyone else in the courtroom. “I know that people will think I’m too young to make any promises, but I’ll still swear it anyway. In honor of my parents’ sacrifices and the love that Lord and Lady Malcolm have given me, I will do everything I can so that none of it will be in vain. I will lead a life that they can be proud of. But if this court asks me to denounce my biological parents in favor of a piece of paper that has nothing to do with my character, I will never do that. Rodrigo Chalkias was not the best of men, but he had been a good father to me, and I cannot and will not lie about—-”
His voice suddenly cracked, and when Enid saw her son’s shoulders start to shake, she didn’t even pause to think.
She rushed to him, protocol be damned. Her son needed her, and when she reached him, he looked at her and said brokenly, “I don’t want you to think I’m betraying you or Father. I love you, but—-”
Enid shook her head. “Hush.”
People began to shout behind them. The judge began pounding his gavel, demanding for order in the court. But she heard none of it. She saw none of it. The mother only saw her son, and Enid drew her little boy close.
“I’d never think that, baby.” And as he cried on her shoulder, she whispered, “I’m so, so proud of you. Everything you said was perfect. You’re the son we want, and we wouldn’t have you any other way.”