Who Is The Author Of The Child?

Gabriel Russo had been born under a dark cloud. He knew his history like the back of his hand; his mother made sure of that. He knew what blood ran through his veins and what it meant. He also knew that there were some with that same blood who would kill him if they could. Born the product of a horrible act inflicted upon his mother by one of the Ricci brothers, now the adopted son of another very powerful family, he's the heir to two of the most powerful Familias in the West.The Life The Beginning is created by Jordan Silver, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

The Mother That Fed the Dark is a study of inherited guilt, ritual, and the long reach of a mother's choices. Amahle, a woman who practices the old rituals in secret, believes that her younger son , Sipho, was born as a spiritual "door" to be sacrificed for the sake of power and protection. During the ritual she performed , she got interrupted by the older son, Thando, who died instead. While the community believes Thando's death was accidental, Amahle knows better: it was the wrong son who died, and the ritual was left unfinished. Drenched in fear and resentment , Amahle raises Sipho as if he is the love of her life, while at the same time working to destroy him. Behind closed doors, she feeds the supernatural force from the failed ritual, which weakens Sipho, making him fearful and dependent. As Sipho grows, so do the misfortunes that follow him, and an unseen entity begins to present itself-first in dreams and whispers, then in the physical world . What we see is that the ritual did not bind to the house but to Sipho's bloodline. When Sipho leaves home, the haunting grows stronger. After Amahle's death, Sipho finds her secret notebooks , which reveal to him the shocking truth: that his brother's death was a mistake and, in fact, Sipho was never meant to die but to be the vehicle for the ritual, which he indeed is. Setting the family home on fire brings only temporary relief , but the curse does not break. In the final revelation, Sipho realizes that he is not the offering but the keeper, the living portal through which harmony, hardship, and magical power flow. Unlike his mother, he comes to the realization that he has a choice.

Three years after a painful divorce, Ava Blackwood returns to the city she once fled from and this time as a mother carrying a secret that could destroy the fragile peace she built. Her son, Leo, is the living proof of a love that once consumed her and the one truth she swore she would never reveal to her ex-husband. Ethan Blackwood is no longer the man Ava left behind. At thirty-three, he is a ruthless billionaire whose name commands respect and fear. He was cold and emotionally guarded, Ethan believes the past is buried until he crosses paths with Ava again and then he sees the child. Leo’s resemblance is impossible to ignore. As Ethan begins to suspect the truth, Ava fights desperately to protect her son from a world of wealth, power and emotional chaos. She remembers the man Ethan used to be, very distant, proud and incapable of choosing her when it mattered most. She refuses to let Leo become collateral damage in Ethan’s life but secrets have a way of unraveling with Sienna, Ethan’s current partner, watching closely and stirring conflict, tension rises and then wounds reopen, accusations fly and finally love and resentment collide. When the truth finally comes out that Leo is Ethan’s son, the fallout is explosive. Ethan is forced to confront the consequences of his past choices and the years he lost as a father. Ava must decide whether she can trust the man who once broke her heart not just with her love again but with their child. Caught between regret and redemption, pride and vulnerability, Ava and Ethan must face the question neither of them can escape: Can love survive the lies that once tore it apart when a child stands between them?

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

As I was watching a movie in the cinema, a rude child kept kicking the back of my seat. He even took off his shoe and extended his foot next to my face. I turned around and chastised him to take his seat, but he stabbed me in my neck with a sharp needle. Feeling the pain, I reached out and wiped the blood from my neck. His mother chuckled. “It’s fine, he’s just fooling around with my sewing needle. It’s just a harmless jab. It’s not like it has poison on it. Be a good sport about it.” I threw the popcorn bucket onto the floor and aimed my phone’s flashlight at the rude child. I roared, “The child’s holding a discarded needle that was used on an AIDS patient in the hospital! There’s an AIDs patient’s blood on it!”

My mother never believed me. To her, I was always just a lying pup. In my pack, every cub wore a Moon Oath Collar. Red meant you lied. White meant you told the truth. My sister’s collar always glowed a soft white. Even when she pretended to be sick to get out of an exam, her collar only gave off that gentle white light. Mine was different. Even when I was truly sick, my collar would burst into a violent red, and the punishment current would follow immediately. On my sister’s birthday, Mother prepared a bonfire feast for the whole pack. Just before they left, a splitting pain tore through my head, and I collapsed on the floor, begging her to help me. For one second, she almost picked me up. Then my collar flashed red. “To ruin your sister’s birthday, you’re even pretending to die? What a vicious child.” Then she walked out with my sister and left me alone on the floor. I died alone on the cold floor. But when I opened my eyes again, I was no longer inside my body. My soul drifted after my mother as I whispered the truth she had never believed. “Mom… I wasn’t lying. I really died.” And when they finally found my body, the red collar on my neck was still flashing.