Bastard Child

A bombshell dropped in Dante’s mind. His racing heart hammered against his ribs in a chaotic rhythm. Looking down at the fierce little girl in the slightly faded pink princess dress, an overwhelming urge gripped his chest. He wanted to drop to his knees right there on the dirty concrete, pull his beautiful daughter into his arms, and smother her cheeks with kisses. He forced the intense tide of excitement down, took a deep, steadying breath, and crouched to her eye level.

"Hey, Mr. Creepy, I asked you a question." The girl jutted her lower lip out, scanning his tall, imposing frame with open suspicion. "Are you here to bother my mommy too? Because I'll beat you up! I mean it, you baddie!"

Dante rubbed his wide palms together, softening his battle-hardened voice into the gentlest tone he could manage. "I'm not a bad guy, little one. You're a very pretty girl. If I give you some sweet candy, will you tell me your name and how old you are?"

The girl planted her chubby hands firmer on her hips and let out a dramatic, exaggerated huff. "You are so immature, Mr. Creepy." She rolled her bright eyes. "That trick is for two-year-old babies. I am already four years old. I'm way too smart to fall for that!"

A warm, rich laugh bubbled from Dante’s chest, easing the tension in his broad shoulders. He reached out and affectionately patted the top of her messy pigtails. "You're right. Maya is the smartest girl of them all."

Maya puffed her chest out with sudden pride. "Of course I am. I'm the smartest kid in the whole kindergarten." She paused, her small brow furrowing as realization dawned. "Wait a second. How do you know my name?"

Dante offered a soft smile, his dark eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Maya, you mentioned bad people were bullying you and your mommy. Is that true?"

"Mm-hmm!" Maya nodded her head in a furious blur, her pigtails bouncing against her shoulders. "A bad uncle came over today. He bullies Mommy all the time. Every time he visits, Mommy hides in the corner and cries for so long. I hate him." Tears welled up in her large, bright eyes, threatening to spill over her flushed cheeks. She raised her tiny fists and waved them in the air. "I wish I could grow up super fast! Then I could punch him and protect Mommy!"

A bitter ache twisted Dante’s gut. This sweet little girl carried a weight far too heavy for her age.

*Smash!*

A deafening, shattering crash echoed from inside Room 102, followed by the muffled sound of a harsh male voice.

The color drained from Maya’s face. Pure terror replaced her brave facade. She scrambled forward, diving behind Dante’s broad legs and clutching the fabric of his dark trousers. "The uncle is hitting Mommy again," she whimpered, her tiny body trembling against his calves. "I'm scared."

Murderous fury erupted in Dante’s chest, burning away the gentle warmth from a moment ago. His blood ran cold. He knew the Caldwell family had cruelly disowned Elena five years ago, tossing her out to fend for herself on the grim streets. That alone was an unforgivable sin. But to track her down and torment her in her own home? They had crossed a line that could only be paid for in blood.

He looked down at the trembling child clinging to him. He extended a wide, calloused palm toward her. "It's okay, Maya. I'm here," he said, his voice a steady rumble of unwavering certainty. "Let's go protect Mommy and chase the baddies away together. How does that sound?"

Maya sniffled, looking at his large hand before nodding. "Okay."

Her tiny fingers wrapped around his. The simple touch sent a jolt of immense strength straight to his core. His blood flowed through her veins. She was his flesh and blood. An icy, lethal rage settled over him, aimed directly at the abusers behind that wooden door.

Inside the cramped, dim apartment, the situation had reached a breaking point.

"Derek Caldwell, you have gone way too far!" Elena Caldwell screamed. She grabbed a heavy ceramic mug from the table and hurled it across the living room. It shattered against the cracked plaster wall, sending sharp fragments raining onto the scuffed floorboards. Her stunning face flushed bright red with intense indignation, tears of utter frustration gathering in her eyes.

She stood defiant, her chest heaving as she glared at the intruders. "I'm supposed to just remarry? To sleep with a stranger? Who do you think I am? I, Elena Caldwell, would rather die than do something so despicable!"

Just this morning, she had received a message from the Caldwell family. Five long years of agonizing silence, five years of treating her like a diseased stray, and they finally reached out. They claimed they wanted to give her a second chance to return home. For a brief, foolish moment, she thought her family had remembered that blood was thicker than water. She thought they missed her.

Instead, they arrived with a grotesque demand. They viewed her as nothing more than cheap merchandise. The Caldwells wanted to trade her body to the Roth family's eldest son to secure a hundred-million-dollar contract.

Derek Caldwell lounged casually on her thrift-store sofa, inspecting his manicured fingernails with a haughty sneer. He didn't even flinch at the shattered mug. "Don't put yourself on a pedestal, cousin," he scoffed. "Need I remind you why you live in this dump? You bore a bastard child. You dragged our prestigious family name through the mud."

Derek stood up, his gaze raking over her threadbare clothes with utter disgust. "A slut who can't even find her kid's father is trying to lecture me about dignity? Don't make me laugh. The Roth Group is a massive empire. Young Master Roth is an elite among elites. You should be kissing the ground he walks on for even glancing in your direction."

Elena shook her head, her nails digging into her palms until the skin nearly broke. "I won't do it. I won't let you sell me!"

"He doesn't even care about that little burden you drag around," Derek continued, his tone dripping with condescension. "He is offering you a ticket back to high society. You get to be the eldest daughter of the Caldwell family again. You must have saved a nation in your past life to get this kind of luck."

Derek took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with cruel mockery. "Getting money thrown at you the moment you strip your clothes and spread your legs... Do you have any idea how many women would kill for a chance like that? We are doing you a massive favor. Stop acting like an ungrateful bitch!"

"Get out!" Elena pointed a shaking finger at the door, hot tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "Take your bodyguards and get out of my house! I would rather die in the gutters than marry him for your gain!"

Derek’s smug smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, venomous glare. "You think you have a choice? Since when do you get a say in family business?" He waved a hand toward the hulking men standing near the entryway. "Tie her up. We're taking her right now."

"No! Stay away from me!" Elena backed up, her spine hitting the edge of the cheap coffee table. She was a slender woman. There was no way she could fight off professional bodyguards. Desperation consumed her. Her hand shot backward, her fingers wrapping around the handle of a heavy steel kettle sitting on the table.

Without a second thought, she swung her arm forward and hurled the kettle straight at Derek.

The lid popped off mid-air. Scalding, boiling water erupted from the metal container and splashed directly across Derek’s face and neck.

"Ahhhh!" Derek shrieked in pure agony. He stumbled backward, his hands flying to his blistering skin. The burning liquid seared his flesh, making him wail like a slaughtered animal. "You psychotic bitch! I'll kill you!"

Blind with pain and rage, Derek lunged forward. He raised his right arm in a vicious, sweeping arc, aiming a heavy slap straight at Elena’s beautiful face. The brutal force behind the swing promised broken bones and permanent disfigurement.

Elena gasped. Trapped against the table, she had nowhere to run. She squeezed her eyes shut in sheer despair, bracing for the devastating impact, fearing for her very life.

*Bam!*

A deafening explosion of splintering wood shook the apartment walls. The sturdy front door flew off its hinges, busted open by a single, devastating kick.

Dante marched into the room in swift, predatory strides. He crossed the cramped living space in a blur of motion. Right as Derek’s hand was about to strike Elena’s cheek, Dante reached out and caught the descending arm.

His large fingers clamped around Derek’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

Derek gasped, his eyes bulging as an unimaginable, crushing pressure locked onto his bones. He tried to yank his arm back, but it was like pulling against a solid steel beam. "W-Who the hell are you?" Derek demanded through gritted teeth, his burnt face contorting in fresh pain.

The bodyguards froze in their tracks, staring in shock at the towering, menacing intruder who had just decimated a reinforced door.

Dante ignored Derek’s question. He did not look at the bodyguards. He did not even look at Derek’s furious face. Instead, Dante stared coldly at the captive limb held firmly in his grasp.

"This arm of yours," Dante declared, his voice a low, chilling whisper that seemed to suck the warmth from the room. "It is evil. I don't like it."

"What kind of crazy nonsense are you spouting?!" Derek spat, his arrogance returning despite the searing pain in his face and wrist. "Let me go this instant, or I swear I will—"

*Crack!*

"Ahhhhh!"