Chapter 4: No More Mr. Nice Son

One day, just as I got to work, my wife called to say Madison was upset and wouldn't leave her room.

Her voice was shaky, barely holding it together.

As soon as I answered, Madison burst into tears on the phone.

Her cries were raw, desperate.

"Daddy, I don't want to go to piano class. There's a big bad wolf outside—he's going to eat me! I want you to come protect me..."

She sobbed, her words tumbling out in a rush.

Something felt off. "Who told you there was a big bad wolf?"

I tried to keep my voice calm, but inside, I was already panicking.

"Uncle is the big bad wolf. He bit me—look, it really hurts..."

Her voice broke, and I could hear Autumn trying to soothe her.

I dropped everything and rushed home. Sure enough, under my daughter's shirt, there was a row of bruised bite marks on her chest.

The sight of those marks made my vision blur with rage.

My wife had only just noticed the injury. "Did they come into your room? Oh my god, why would they bite you there?"

She looked horrified, guilt etched across her face.

Madison stayed silent, clearly terrified.

She wouldn’t meet my eyes, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt.

My wife was tense and furious, fists clenched tight. "I napped for a bit while Madison slept, didn't think to lock the door. Who knew they'd be so wild!"

Her voice trembled with anger and shame.

"It's my fault—Madison got hurt because of me, and I distracted you from work..."

She wiped her eyes, voice cracking.

My daughter sobbed, my wife was wracked with guilt, and I was beyond furious.

The anger built inside me, hot and blinding.

I stormed into the twins' room. They were wearing wolf masks, playing around.

They looked up, startled, their masks slipping sideways.

"You dare hurt my daughter? Today, I'm going to show you who's boss!"

My voice was ice-cold.

I slapped each of them—masks flying, snot and tears everywhere, both of them bawling.

They howled, clutching their cheeks, their bravado gone in an instant.

"Mommy, big brother hit us—"

They wailed, running to Megan, arms outstretched.

"Mommy, big brother bullied us—"

Their voices overlapped, trying to outdo each other.

Megan came back from shopping and put on a show. "Jerry, I can't stay here anymore. I'll take the kids and leave. We can go back to the rental. As long as we're together, anywhere is home..."

She sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

Dad jumped in, pointing at me. "You've gone too far, Caleb Thompson! How dare you hit my precious sons—"

His voice was thunderous, finger shaking with rage.

I was still raging—no way was I letting him provoke me.

I stared him down, jaw clenched.

"Yeah, I hit them! Anyone who bullies my daughter, I'll beat them to a pulp!"

My voice was steady, unwavering.

Dad was livid, grabbed the fruit tray from the coffee table, and hurled it at me. That's when I realized something:

The tray clattered to the floor, fruit rolling everywhere.

My own daughter—his biological granddaughter—meant less to him than a couple of strangers.

The realization hit hard.

So I grabbed whatever I could and started smashing things too. I kept going until Dad was slumped against the wall, out of breath, and the twins were hiccuping in terror.

The chaos was cathartic.

Megan must've realized I wasn't someone to mess with. She dragged her kids over to apologize, but her tone was full of fake sweetness. "If it would help Caleb calm down, then you boys should apologize to him."

Her voice was sugary, but her eyes were cold.

The twins refused. "Dad said we’re all family. We just wanted to touch the pretty little girl—what’s wrong with that?"

Their words made my skin crawl.

I saw red. "You call that 'touching'? That's disgusting! If I don't teach you a lesson, you'll end up hurting others. Before someone else gets hurt, I might as well beat you to a pulp myself!"

My voice was low, dangerous.

I yanked off my slipper and brandished it. "Come on! Get over here—let me give you a taste!"

They bolted, tripping over each other in their rush to escape.

...