Eric left the gun in his duffel bag

Eric’s stomach lurched as he watched Esmeralda disappear down the hall with his duffel bag… and the gun tucked inside.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He **** a smile. "Hey, Dad, where would Esmeralda have taken my laundry? I left something important in there."

His father barely glanced up from his newspaper. "The east wing laundry room, but-"

"I’ll show him!" Stacy chirped, already sliding off her stool. Her silk robe swayed dangerously with each click of her heels. "Come on, sweetie. Let’s go find your precious cargo."

Eric gritted his teeth at the pet name but followed. The mansion’s hallways stretched endlessly, lined with modern art and glass displays of his father’s tech awards. Stacy prattled about redecorating plans, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

The laundry room was larger than Eric’s entire apartment, with industrial-grade machines humming softly. Eric's eyes darted to where Esmeralda had set his duffel bag on a marble sorting table.

"Gracias, Esmeralda," Stacy said with practiced sweetness, gliding forward before Eric could react. "Mi hijito lost something important, didn't you?" Her manicured fingers unzipped the bag before Eric could protest.

"It's fine, I'll handle it-"

"Nonsense!" Stacy's laugh tinkled like champagne glasses as she plunged her hands into the laundry. "We're family, aren't we?" Her smile didn't reach her eyes. Keep the heir close, she reminded herself. Daddy's will isn't written yet.

Her fingers closed around cold plastic.

"...This?" She held up the neon-green toy gun between two fingers, eyebrow arched. "What, did you forget your Valorant cosplay prop?" Stacy perplexed why her son had deemed this such an important item.

Eric lunged. "Give it!"

Stacy danced back, laughing. "Ooooh, someone’s touchy." She examined the gun closer. "Why’s this so important, huh? You hiding **** in here?"

"None of your business!" Eric grabbed for it again, but Stacy twisted away, her robe gaping.

"Tell me, or I tell Daddy you brought a weapon into his house." Her playful tone turned sharp. "He’d hate that."

Eric's pulse spiked. "Give. It. Back."

Stacy’s face darkened. She tightened her grip-

Stacy tilted her head, suddenly intrigued by his panic. She traced the cheap barrel with a blood-red nail. "What's so special about-"

Eric lunged.

Stacy pivoted, the robe slipping off one shoulder as she held the gun aloft. "Whoa! Someone's territorial about their toys." Her playful tone sharpened. "Or is this not a toy at all?"

They grappled- Eric grabbing for the gun, Stacy twisting away- until her back hit the dryer.

"Seriously?" She kicked at his shins, her breath coming fast. "What are you, twelve?"

Eric snapped. "Give it to me, you stupid bimbo! You’re not even my real mom!"

PFFT.

The gun went off with a childish pop, but the light that erupted was anything but harmless. Blinding white energy flooded the room, throwing Eric backward. He crashed into a laundry cart as the world dissolved into searing brightness.