It had been several tranquil years since Selina had given birth to their twins—a boy and a girl they named Eli and Maya. And it had been precisely two years since Tony Stone triumphed in the courtroom, securing a victory in the arduous legal battle that had once threatened to unravel everything he cherished. He emerged not merely vindicated, but reborn—his dignity intact, his name cleared.
With the shadow of the courtroom behind him, Tony returned to his family no longer as a man burdened by injustice, but as a devoted husband and a proud father. Eli and Maya had recently begun growing into teenagers.Tong could still remember the first day they addressed him as "Papa," Tony had stood still, overcome with emotion. Tears welled in his eyes—not from grief, but from an overwhelming wave of gratitude. At that moment, he understood the true meaning of contentment.
He would cradle both twins in his arms while Selina prepared meals, occasionally swaying gently to lull Maya to sleep as Eli reached for his face with curious fingers. He promised himself to watch them grow and so did he. Their modest home, filled with laughter and warmth, felt like a sanctuary. It was an oasis of light after years spent trudging through darkness.
Yet serenity, in the presence of those driven by malice, can be a dangerous thing.
Marcus was not yet defeated. He had disappeared from the public eye after the court's ruling, but it was not to lick his wounds—it was to conspire. His pride wounded and his influence diminished, he seethed with resentment. And resentment, when left to fester, curdles into something far more lethal.
He summoned his three most formidable enforcers—men handpicked for their loyalty, their ruthlessness, and their unrelenting precision. They were the embodiment of Marcus's rage, his sharpened instruments of vengeance. Over hushed conversations in shadowy corners, they studied Tony's movements. His daily walks. His visits to the grocery store. The times he left the house alone.
All they needed was the right moment.
That moment arrived one crisp evening, as dusk bled into the sky like ink spreading across parchment. In the Stone kitchen, the scent of sautéed garlic and simmering broth filled the air. Tony and Selina stood side by side at the counter, exchanging quiet laughter as they prepared dinner. The twins who were already fine teenagers, was helping with the chopping of the carrots.
Suddenly, Eli stopped and stared at his father for a while.
" Dad!. Did you ever did something that you regretted badly and wish it never happened. " He asked his voice almost above a whisper.
Tony was moved by the question. He slowly turned to Selina and tears filled his eyes. He quickly wiped it away and turned to Eli.
" Everybody have committed grave mistakes that they regret. But the truth is, we don't allow our bad times take over our good times. " Tony said smiling brightly at his son who nodded.
" Maybe Eli did something wrong at school. Cause Eli is always getting into trouble. " Maya said teasing Eli. Infact teasing him was her funnest games.
" May!. I told you to stop teasing your brother. He doesn't like that you know. " Selina said sounding almost strict.
" No!. Don't interrupt her. I love how she sounds like a loser. " Eli said firing back in defense.
Maya gasped pretending to be serious. She picked up a bowl of Gumbo spicy soup that layed on the table close to her and ran after Eli threatening to spill it in his eyes.
Selina and Tony watched as the children played happily.
" Now, be careful May!. You don't wanna spill that soup on your brother's eyes for real, do you?!. " She said almost screaming.
Maya paused for a while and turned to her mother's direction. " I would do it for real if he keeps calling me a loser. "She said and continued her pursuit of Eli.
Selina giggled and walk to the refrigerator. She opened it, scanning its contents, before frowning slightly. "Baby, we're out of mushrooms."
Tony turned, wiping his hands on a towel. "I'll go get some," he said with an easy smile.
Selina closed the fridge and raised a brow. "Why don't I go instead? I'll be quick."
Tony shook his head gently, stepping forward and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "No. I don't want you going out at night. I'll be right back."
He grabbed his wallet and coat from the rack, and before opening the door, he paused and turned back to Eli and Maya who were already breathing heavily after a long run around the sitting room.
" You two, be obident and listen to your mum!. I'll be back and I don't want your mum complaining when I am back. " He said.
" Okay Dad!. " They said simultaneously.
He then turned to Selina and said
"Watch the kids. Lock the door behind me—and don't open for anyone unless you hear my voice. Promise me."
"I promise," she said, still smiling.
He stepped into the evening chill, unaware that the eyes of his enemies were already upon him.
The grocery store was just a few blocks away. The shopkeeper, a kindly older man who had known Tony since his youth, gave him a nod and rang up the mushrooms without small talk. Tony thanked him and stepped back into the night, content, the brown paper bag tucked under one arm.
That contentment was short-lived.
As he approached the alley behind his apartment, three figures emerged from the shadows like phantoms. The first blow came fast—a metal pipe arcing through the air and connecting with his forearm as he raised it instinctively to protect his face. Pain shot through him like lightning. He staggered but remained upright.
Then came the fists. A barrage of brutal strikes to his ribs, stomach, and back. He fought back with raw instinct—landing a punch, elbowing one of them hard in the temple. But they were stronger, more experienced, relentless in their assault.
"Stay down," one of them growled, slamming a knee into his gut.
Blood trickled from his mouth. His vision blurred. But he refused to collapse.
He saw a break—one of the attackers slipped slightly on the damp pavement. With adrenaline flooding his veins, Tony surged forward, elbowing his way out of the circle. He broke into a sprint, lungs burning, legs screaming in protest.
They pursued him, hot on his heels. He turned sharply, darting through an alley and leaping over a fence, zigzagging through tight corridors until he finally lost them.
Gasping for air and clutching his bruised side, Tony staggered home, bloodied but alive. He reached the front door and knocked urgently.
Inside, Selina froze.
"Who is it?" she called.
"It's me—Tony! Open up, quick!"
The door flew open. Selina gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
"What happened? Oh my God—what happened to you?!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking with panic.
Tony stumbled inside, barely able to stand. "They jumped me. Three men. I don't know for certain who sent them, but I suspect Marcus Harper. I even noticed a tattoo on their chests—an emblem associated with him. These men were professionals, Selina. It wasn't a random attack."
She helped him to the couch, her hands trembling as she applied disinfectant and bandages to his wounds. But as she peeled back layers of his shirt and saw the bruises, she realized first aid wouldn't be enough.
"We're going to the hospital," she said firmly.
And they did.
After hours of treatment and examination, Tony returned home—bandaged, exhausted, but safe. He sank into the bed while Selina remained at his side, holding his hand tightly.
"Tell me everything," she said, her voice steady with resolve.
He did.
When he finished, she exhaled shakily. "That man… I always knew he was dangerous. But I didn't know he was this cruel. Tony, you have to report this. The police need to know. They could find those men—or at the very least warn Marcus to stay away from us."
Tony nodded. "I'll do it. For the family."
She reached out, squeezing his hand. "Are the kids asleep?"
"They are," he said.
"Then get some rest. We'll get through this."
* * *
The next morning, Tony made his way to the police station, body aching but spirit resolute. At the front desk, Detective Ramos listened intently as Tony narrated the attack in detail. He spoke cautiously, not accusing Marcus outright but expressing his suspicion clearly.
"They weren't random thugs," Tony said carefully. "Those men were skilled, professional. I recognized a tattoo on their chests—an insignia linked to Marcus Harper. I don't know if he ordered the attack for sure, but he's the only person I can suspect."
Detective Ramos jotted notes, his expression unreadable. "We'll look into it, Mr. Stone. You're fortunate to be alive."
Tony nodded solemnly. "I just want to keep my family safe."
* * *
Later that day, Marcus Harper was summoned to the station. He arrived with a measured calm, though a flicker of unease crossed his face when he saw Tony sitting across from the detective.
"Tony," Marcus said, forcing a polite smile. "This is unexpected."
Detective Ramos began the questioning with a neutral tone. "Mr. Harper, we have reason to believe you may be connected to an attack on Mr. Stone last night."
Marcus arched a brow. "I'm unaware of any such attack."
"Mr. Stone suspects you," Ramos continued. "He noted a tattoo on the assailants that linked them to you."
Marcus's smile tightened. "Speculation is not evidence."
"We are not pressing charges at this time," Ramos said firmly. "But consider this a formal warning: stay away from Mr. Stone and his family."
Marcus nodded stiffly. "Understood."
* * *
That evening when Marcus returned from the police station, He stormed through the front door of his house, slamming it behind him with a force that sent a sharp echo reverberating through the quiet neighborhood. His anger was palpable, a storm barely contained beneath his controlled exterior.
Rachel, Linda's mother, looked up from where she sat on the worn couch, her eyes narrowing in wary suspicion. She despised Marcus with a deep, simmering loathing. Though she rarely showed it openly, everyone in the house knew how much she detested him.
"What's wrong?" she asked cautiously, her voice steady but laced with curiosity.
Marcus said nothing at first, simply standing there, his jaw clenched tightly. Rachel waited, her gaze locked on him as if daring him to speak. Finally, the silence broke.
"Get out," Marcus snapped, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Go to your room and stop disturbing me."
Rachel didn't move immediately, her eyes flickering with a mixture of defiance and exhaustion. But she knew better than to push him further tonight. Slowly, she rose and retreated to her room, the door clicking shut behind her.
Marcus dropped heavily into the chair by the small table in the living room. His fingers curled tightly around the cold bottle of beer sitting there, knuckles whitening as he clenched his fist. The room was still except for the faint hiss of the beer as he raised it to his lips.
He muttered under his breath, the words barely more than a whisper but filled with venom:
" I won't let you go, Tony!"
The threat lingered in the air, heavy and dark. This was far from over.