When Chaos was five, he was kidnapped.
It happened on a school afternoon, under the careless brightness of day, when no one expected harm to come so close to the Riegrow heir.
The car that was meant to bring him home returned without him.
Its windows were shattered, seats were soaked in blood.
The bodyguards assigned to protect him were dead.
And the boy was gone.
By the time the news reached Caesar, the entire mansion had already shifted into terror. Guards moved like shadows through every corridor. Phones rang without pause. Cars were sent out. Men were armed. Orders were given in Caesar's cold, merciless voice.
A rival gang had taken his son.
His heir and blood.
Caesar turned the city upside down.
Roads were blocked. Warehouses were searched. Anyone who had ever opposed Caesar Riegrow suddenly learned what it meant to be hunted by a man who considered mercy an inconvenience.
But Selene heard the news differently.
That afternoon, she had been in the mansion, expecting nothing more than the child's return from school.
Not because she waited for him, but because the household moved around Chaos's schedule, and even Selene had grown used to the rhythm of his existence.
Only that day, there were no footsteps.
There was only a guard, pale and shaking, standing before her. "Madam…"
Selene looked up, already irritated by his silence.
"What is it?"
The guard swallowed. "The young master's car was attacked."
The room seemed to still.
Selene's hand tightened around the armrest of her chair. "What?"
"The bodyguards were killed," he continued, his voice barely steady. "The young master was taken."
For a moment, Selene did not move. The words entered her, but they did not make sense.
Taken.
Chaos had been taken.
Then something inside her cracked so violently it felt like bone breaking.
"Chaos…"
His name left her mouth quietly at first.
Then she stood.
The guard barely had time to step back before Selene grabbed him with both hands, her fingers digging into his uniform.
"My son," she said, her voice trembling. "Where is my son?"
The guard froze. So did everyone who heard her.
My son.
For the first time since the boy had been born, Selene called Chaos hers.
And once the words left her mouth, they broke something open inside her.
Tears spilled down her face with such force that she could not stop them. Her grip on the guard tightened, frantic and desperate.
"Where is he?" she cried. "Where is my son?"
No one answered.
No one could.
And that silence destroyed her.
Selene broke down
She screamed for Chaos until her voice tore. She thrashed when Caesar's guards tried to hold her back, demanding they bring him home, demanding they tell her where he was, demanding they do something other than stand there while her child vanished into the hands of monsters.
"My son," she sobbed again and again. "My son… my son…"
The words became a prayer.
Chaos was the only thing in that house that had ever truly belonged to her.
Not Caesar.
Not the name forced upon her.
Not the marriage that had caged her.
Chaos.
Her child.
The only pure thing to come from the hell she had survived.
And she had hated him.
She had pushed him away. Recoiled from his touch and made him believe he was something dangerous, something unworthy of love.
She had thought it would be easier that way.
If she never loved him, Caesar could not use him against her.
If she never held him, she would not feel the weight of him.
If she never called him son, then perhaps she could pretend he was only Caesar's blood and not hers too.
But standing there, with the news of his kidnapping tearing through her, Selene realised the terrible truth.
She had been wrong. She was his mother.
Cruel, broken, hateful but still his mother.
And Chaos was her son.
Her little boy.
Her beautiful, lonely little boy.
When Caesar appeared, Selene rushed to him, no pride left in her body.
"Find him," she begged, gripping his shirt like a madwoman. "Caesar, please. Find my son. Bring him back to me."
Caesar looked down at her, his face unreadable. Selene did not care.
She begged him anyway.
Again.
And again.
Until her knees nearly gave out.
Hours passed like years.
The mansion became a battlefield of waiting. Every sound made Selene flinch. Every footstep sent hope and dread through her chest. She could not sit. Could not eat. Could not breathe properly.
She kept seeing Chaos as he had been that morning.
Leaving for school without looking back at her because she had taught him there was no reason to.
By the time Caesar's men found him, Selene was almost hollow from fear.
The rival gang had hidden him in an abandoned property at the edge of the city. Caesar's men stormed the place before nightfall. Chaos was found alive. Bruised and bloodied.
When the cars finally returned to the mansion, Selene was already running.
She did not wait for the doors to open properly. She tore across the entrance hall, her dress catching around her legs, her hair loose, her face stained with tears.
Chaos had barely crossed the threshold when Selene reached him.
She dropped to her knees and pulled him into her arms.
For the first time in his life, his mother held him.
Not by accident nor for show.
Not with disgust hidden behind her eyes.
She held him tightly, desperately, as if she could press him back into safety by force alone.
"My boy," she sobbed into his hair. "My pretty little boy…"
Chaos stood stiffly in her arms. He did not hug her back.
His small gloved hands hung at his sides, and his pale blue eyes stared over her shoulder with a strange, unreadable calm.
He was confused.
This woman had spent his whole life avoiding his touch.
Now she was shaking around him as though losing him had nearly killed her. Selene pulled back just enough to look at his face, her trembling hands hovering over him as if she wanted to touch every bruise and apologise to each one.
"I am so sorry," she cried. "Forgive me. Please forgive me."
Chaos only stared at her.
Selene broke again.
"Forgive mummy," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. "Please, forgive mummy."
The word hung between them.
She held him again, tighter this time, uncaring of the blood, the dirt, the bruises, the watching servants, or Caesar standing behind them.
"I will be better," she promised through her tears. "I swear I will be better. I will be your mother. I will be good to you. I promise."
Chaos still did not move. But Selene held him anyway.
She cried over the child she had rejected, over the years she could not take back, over every moment he had reached for her and found only coldness.
And as she clutched him to her chest, Selene thanked whatever cruel mercy had returned him alive.
She had been given a second chance.
This time, she would not waste it.
For the next few weeks, Selene did not leave her son's side.
If Chaos disappeared from her sight for even a moment, panic would seize her so violently that the entire mansion would feel it.
"Where is he?"
"Who took him?"
"Why is he not here?"
It did not matter if Chaos had only gone to the garden.
It did not matter if he was with his tutors.
It did not matter if he was simply in the next room.
Selene wanted him where she could see him.
Where she could touch him.
Where the world could not steal him from her again.
Chaos did not understand it.
How could he?
For the first five years of his life, his mother had treated him like something cursed. She had recoiled from his touch, called him ruin, wrapped his hands in black leather, and made the whole house understand that he was never to come near her.
Then, overnight, everything changed.
Suddenly, she held him.
Suddenly, she cried when he was away too long.
Suddenly, she kissed his forehead, brushed his hair, fed him with her own hands, and called him my boy as though she had been saying it since the day he was born.
At first, Chaos flinched.
The first time Selene reached for him after his return, his small body stiffened. His gloved hands curled at his sides, and his pale blue eyes watched her with the careful stillness of a child who had learned that affection could turn cruel without warning.
Selene saw it.
And every time, something inside her shattered quietly.
Still, she kept reaching.
And children, even wounded ones, did not always need reasons to accept love from their parents.
Sometimes, they simply took what was finally offered.
So Chaos adapted. Slowly at first.
Then all at once.
Before long, he no longer pulled away completely when Selene hugged him, he began standing closer to her whenever she entered the room, allowing her fingers to move through his hair without fear tightening his shoulders.
Soon, he began waiting for her.
Looking for her.
Following the sound of her voice.
And Selene, drunk on guilt and second chances, decided she would make up for every lost moment.
She did everything she believed a good mother should do.
She spent time with him. Spoiled him. Read to him. Sat beside him while he ate. Dressed him herself when he allowed it. Filled his room with toys, books, clothes, rare sweets, and ridiculous little gifts that made the maids whisper behind closed doors.
She adored him with the same intensity with which she had once rejected him.
Perhaps more.
Because Selene did not know how to love gently.
She only knew how to love like someone trying to outrun punishment.
And for five years, she poured herself into Chaos until the mansion could no longer remember the time when she had called him a thing.
To Chaos, those five years became the first warmth he had ever known.
To Selene, they became proof that she was not completely damned.
Then Caesar returned home one evening and ruined it.
Dinner was quiet that night.
The long dining table gleamed beneath the chandelier light. Servants moved soundlessly around the room, refilling glasses and setting down dishes.
Chaos sat beside Selene, now ten years old, composed and pale-eyed, his black gloves fitted neatly over his hands, he had not fully learned to live without them. He had grown into a beautiful child, too quiet for his age and observant.
Selene occasionally glanced at him, a soft smile touching her lips each time she did.
Halfway through the meal, Caesar set down his cutlery and cleared his throat.
Selene looked up.
Caesar's expression remained calm.
"Selene," he said, "the boy will be heading to the Underworld in three days."
Selene froze.
Her spoon slipped from her hand and struck the plate with a sharp sound.
Chaos blinked.
The Underworld? He looked between them, confusion crossing his face.
Selene turned slowly to Caesar. "No."
Caesar did not respond to her at first. He only looked at Chaos, as though measuring him from across the table.
Chaos sat very still.
"What is the Underworld?" the boy asked quietly.
Selene's hand found his beneath the table.
She gripped him too tightly.
Caesar smiled faintly. "You will know soon enough."
"No," Selene said again, louder this time.
The servants stopped moving.
Caesar's gaze shifted back to her. Selene's face had gone pale, but her eyes were already burning.
Caesar picked up his glass as though they were discussing something as ordinary as the weather.
Chaos stared at them both, still not understanding why the room suddenly felt like the moment before a storm.
That night, the storm came.
Their argument shook the walls of their bedroom.
"You never mentioned this!" Selene screamed, tears already running down her face. "You never told me you would send him there!"
Caesar stood near the window, lighting a cigarette with maddening calm. "He is at the right age."
"The right age?" Selene laughed, but the sound broke halfway through. "He is a child!"
"He is a Riegrow."
"He is your son!"
"And that is precisely why he must go."
Selene's breath hitched.
Caesar took a slow drag from his cigarette, then exhaled toward the ceiling.
"It is only right," he said. "Every man before him went through it. I went through it. My father did. His father before him."
Selene stared at him as though she were looking at something inhuman. "You are a fucking maniac, Riegrow."
Caesar did not blink.
"You have no soul," she said.
Then she grabbed the nearest vase and hurled it against the wall. It shattered loudly, porcelain bursting across the floor in white fragments.
Caesar looked at the broken pieces, then back at his wife.
To him, her rage meant nothing. The boy was old enough now. One day, Chaos would inherit everything Caesar had built, the name, the empire, the blood-soaked throne beneath it all.
The Underworld was not a place for the faint hearted.
That was exactly why Chaos had to go.
"Selene," Caesar began.
"Don't." Her voice cut through his.
Selene's face twisted with grief and fury.
"Do not fucking call my name," she said. "All you have ever brought me is pain and misery, and I hate you. I fucking hate you."
Caesar rolled his eyes. "We are still doing that?"
The disgust in his voice was almost bored. He had heard those words too many times to be moved by them. Selene's hatred had become part of the house by now, like the marble floors or the chandeliers.
But Selene was beyond pride and her rage now.
She crossed the room and grabbed his hand. Caesar looked down at her fingers around his wrist.
Selene's tears fell freely now, striking the back of his hand. "If he goes there…" Her breath trembled. "There is no guarantee he will return."
"That is the point."
Selene went still.
Caesar's voice was cold. Unforgiving.
"A Riegrow heir must learn to survive where survival is not promised."
"What do you want me to do?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Beg?" Then she lowered herself to her knees.
For the first time in years, Caesar's expression shifted. Only slightly.
Selene saw it and clung to that small change like a drowning woman catching the edge of a blade.
"Please," she whispered.
Caesar said nothing.
Selene held his hand tighter. "Please, Caesar. I am begging you." Her voice cracked. "He is your son. He is mine. You cannot do this to him. You cannot send him there."
Caesar stared down at her, he leaned down slightly, his cigarette burning between his fingers.
Selene's lips trembled.
For one fragile moment, she thought she saw hesitation in him. A crack. A father buried somewhere beneath the monster. Surely no man could look at the mother of his child on her knees and still choose to send that child somewhere he might die.
Surely even Caesar had a limit.
Then he spoke.
"You may pray to every god you know," he said, "but even they will not change my mind."
Selene's face drained of colour.
Caesar pulled his hand free from hers. As if her touch irritated him. Then he turned to leave.
Selene remained on her knees, frozen, her hands empty in front of her.
Something desperate rose in her throat. Something she had once believed still mattered to him.
"I will kill myself."
Caesar stopped. For a moment, there was silence.
Selene stared at his back, shaking.
There.
That was the last hold she had over him.
The last thread.
Caesar sighed.
Slowly, he turned his head.
"I will have the men arrange the finest casket available."
Selene's breath stopped.
The door closed behind him. And Selene remained on the floor, surrounded by broken porcelain, staring at the place where he had stood.