My Son's Death, His Sympathy Vote

an Scott, was a carefully crafted facade of domestic bliss, th

publicly declared amnesia, disowning me and our five-year-old son, Leo, and embracing

ool, came home with bruises and tear-filled eyes, while his father walked past him as if he were furniture. The final, crushing blow came when Ethan, w

such a monstrous, calculating machine? My son, my beautiful boy, red

ld, hard resolve was born. I would fake my own death, resurrecting Jocelyn Fuller, and beco