The story of Max Villareal

The story of Max Villareal v.1

My dad is a multi-millionaire and our mansion are practically packed with maids, henchmen, and butlers, but I was never a happy child. My future has been set in stone ever since the day I was born, I was the heir to my dad's evil throne and I daren't argue about it ever since the day...it was all my fault.

I grew up under my father's rules but when I was a toddler, I still had my mum on my side. She was magical, unlike my father, she gave me cuddles, showed me flashcards and played blocks with me. She made me feel like a normal kid. My father wasn't a big fan of her, after all their story wasn't really your average fairy tale, but he used to let it go until he saw how she was teaching me. When I was six I wanted to go to sports camp like all the other little boys in my kindergarten class and my mother thought it was a brilliant idea instead of moulding away in the mansion for the whole summer.

"Villareal men do not spend summer in sports camp, Max. You've always been a total disappointment but I never knew you could stoop so low." My father bellowed ragingly. "And you!" my father yelled, pointing at my mother, "You turned our son into this? I must rid you from our son's life!"

Father told Mum that if she had to leave the mansion so that I could be brought up to be a true Villareal man. My mother refused to go and insisted that she had to stay there and care for me and she had the rights to do so as she is my mother. My father suddenly looked calm, very calm, too calm...He summoned his personal henchmen and tied me to a chair, making me watch as he slowly tortured my mum, giving her a long and painful cut as blood streaked down her back...so much blood it lead to death. The river of blood spewed onto the marble floor, running towards my trembling toddler toes.

It's all my fault.

All my fault.

My fault...