His Debt Was Her Five Year Lie

For a full week, Jagger never set foot in the apartment, nor did he offer a single word of explanation.

"Mamma, with this paper, does it mean we don't have to live like this anymore?"

Ronan sat on a pile of old newspapers, clutching a copy of the marriage annulment agreement.

I knelt and met his eager eyes. "Yes, baby. We’re going to leave this place and start a new, honest life."

Ronan nodded forcefully.

I watched their lives through the underworld's information network.

In the photos, Jagger was fishing with Rocco on a private yacht, cutting a steak for Lilith in a Michelin-starred restaurant, and swiping his black card without a second thought on Chicago's Magnificent Mile.

That fatherly smile he showed Rocco… if only he could spare Ronan a fraction of it, my son wouldn't cry out for "Papa" in his dreams.

But now, he was giving all his love and power to others.

I scrolled through the screen, each image a fresh cut to my heart.

Five years ago, we didn’t even have a proper ceremony; we just had hot dogs from a street vendor to celebrate.

To help him pay off his supposed "blood debt," I worked the most dangerous jobs, not even daring to go to an underground clinic when I got hurt.

Five-year-old Ronan had to walk miles to the community school because we couldn't afford the bus fare, and he was always bullied for it.

We gave everything for him, while he was busy showering another woman with gifts.

The irony was crushing.

Jagger finally returned on the morning of the tenth day.

The rusty iron door creaked open. He stood in the entryway, ordering me with an air of entitlement, "Get Ronan dressed in something decent. I'm taking him out."

I was stunned, my hand freezing mid-air as I washed dishes.

He had never taken Ronan out.

Why the sudden change of heart?

"No need," I refused coldly. "We don't need your charity."

Jagger's face darkened with impatience. "What do you know? I pulled some strings to get him a spot in a 'family trial.' It's a recognition of his bloodline, an honor other kids would beg for. Don't let your ignorance ruin our son's future!"

I was about to argue when a heavy knock sounded at the door.

It was the gangsters from downstairs, here for this month's protection money.

Jagger frowned and glanced at the door. "Don't let these lowlifes compromise our son's future."

I didn't want him to know I planned to leave for good, so I just gave a noncommittal reply. "They're just here to collect their cut."

Jagger checked his watch and urged, "You deal with them. I'll fix Ronan's bow tie."

I hesitated. Watching him kneel and clumsily adjust our son's collar, I remembered he was still Ronan's father. A few minutes alone with the child couldn't hurt.

So, I dried my hands and went out.

I was in no mood to haggle with the thugs, so after paying them off, I pushed open the door to our apartment.

The silence that greeted me was eerie.

Jagger and Ronan were gone.

A cold dread gripped my throat. I bolted from the apartment, running through the streets like a madwoman.

A young thug on the corner told me he saw them get into a black luxury car, muttering something about a "warrior's trial."

A trial?

I didn't believe for a second that Jagger would be so kind.

With trembling hands, I opened the location app on my phone. I’d saved for three months to buy Ronan a cheap watch with a tracker, just in case.

The red dot on the screen was moving toward the abandoned industrial park on the outskirts of the city, finally stopping at a deserted factory.

That wasn't the family chapel.

I hailed a gypsy cab and practically screamed at the driver to floor it.

An hour later, I stumbled into the factory, which was surrounded by a barbed-wire fence.

I followed the sounds to the second floor. Outside a room converted into an underground fighting ring, I heard Jagger on the phone.

"This is what you call a family trial? Why is he fighting that brute of a kid?"

Then Lilith's voice purred through the phone: "Jagger, I had to pull a lot of strings to get the organizers to let Ronan fight. But I heard his opponent is a juvenile delinquent who doesn't hold back... Rocco is so delicate, I'm afraid he'll get hurt. Why don't we let Ronan test the waters first?"

Lilith paused, then continued, "After all, Ronan is your son. I can't bear to see him remain so mediocre."

Jagger hesitated, his voice laced with doubt. "The opponent is strong? Is it dangerous?"

"Oh, darling, don't you trust me?" Lilith's voice was sickly sweet, dripping with manipulation. "Winning this fight will earn him the family's recognition! Look at how frail Ronan is... he's hardly a fitting heir for you. This is the only way for him to show the courage of the Corbin bloodline, the only way to be truly accepted. I'm doing this for you, to save your face with the family. If—and I mean if—he gets a little hurt, it's a warrior's badge of honor. Besides, what could possibly happen?"

Jagger was silent for a moment. He glanced at Ronan, who was being pushed toward the ring, his eyes wide with terror. In the end, he caved.

He said in a low voice, "Alright. Lilith, you're always so thoughtful. I'll slip the man in charge more money. If this can make a name for him, it's worth the risk. I'm his father; I'll make the decision."