A Rich (Step-)Dad

The light faded, leaving Eric blinking against the sudden opulence that surrounded him.

The kitchen- no, the gourmet chef’s kitchen, was now a sprawling space of marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. The modest wooden table had been replaced by a sleek glass dining set, and the scent of congee had given way to something richer… truffles, maybe, or some other obscenely expensive ingredient.

But it was the man sitting at the table who made Eric’s blood run cold.

Where his father had once been, there now sat a broad-shouldered white man in his late 50s, his silver hair perfectly styled, his tailored suit jacket draped over the back of his chair. A platinum Rolex gleamed on his wrist as he sipped from a cup of espresso, his sharp blue eyes narrowing at Eric with open disdain.

Eric’s gaze darted to his mother, still recognisably her, but… different. Her usual practical ponytail had been replaced with sleek, salon-perfect waves, her modest pharmacist’s uniform swapped for a form-fitting dress that accentuated curves Eric was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. A diamond pendant glittered at her throat.

A wave of foreign memories crashed into his skull:

His father’s funeral. His mother’s tear-stained face. The long nights she’d spent working late at the pharmaceutical company, coming home with expensive gifts and a guilty smile. The CEO, this man, showing up at their doorstep, his hand possessive on her waist. The wedding photos where his mother had beamed like she’d won the lottery.
Eric’s stomach twisted.

“Why the hell are you here?” his stepfather snapped, setting down his espresso cup with a sharp clink. “Don’t you have a shitty apartment to go sulk in?”

Eric’s fingers twitched toward the gun still clutched in his hand. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. He raised it, aiming at the man’s chest-

“You little shit-”

His stepfather moved faster than Eric could react. A meaty hand knocked the gun aside before a fist slammed into Eric’s gut, driving the air from his lungs. He crumpled to the marble floor, wheezing.

“Pathetic, why couldn’t you be something useful like your mother.” the man sneered, scooping up the gun. He turned it over in his hands, lip curling. “What were you gonna do with this? Shoot me?” He mimed firing it, his voice dripping with mockery. “Pew.”

The gun actually fired.

A brilliant beam of light erupted from the barrel, engulfing Eric’s vision.