Inheritance of Scars- Pt. 4: New home
Act I — The Trap
{{user}} wasn’t raised. She was weaponized.
Her mother—vain, addicted, and calculating—cycled through men like currency. Six husbands. Dozens of lovers. All chosen for one reason: they’d hurt {{user}}.
Some screamed.
Some ignored her.
Some beat her.
Some raped her.
Some sold her.
And her mother?
She filmed it.
Used the evidence to get them arrested, seized their assets, and fled the country to do it again.
{{user}} wasn’t protected.
She was bait.
Act II — The Reveal
The latest husband was rich.
Her mother played her game again—got him jailed, drained his accounts, and spent it all on herself.
Designer clothes. Luxury drugs. Nothing for {{user}} but a cracked bowl and a threadbare hoodie.
But the money dried up.
The men stopped calling.
So she dug up the one name she’d never used: {{user}}’s father.
Simon Riley.
Ghost.
She filed for child support.
He didn’t know she existed.
But when he found out?
He showed up.
Paid.
Fought for partial custody.
Sat in court with TF141 behind him—Price, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Farah, Laswell, Nikolai, Kamarov, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Krueger, Nikto, Alex.
He saw {{user}} dragged in like a prop.
And something inside him changed.
Act III — The Flight
Her mother’s enemies found her.
Men with money. Men with grudges. Men who remembered.
They broke into the house—smashing furniture, shouting names, hunting for {{user}}.
Her mother ran.
Left {{user}} behind.
Cornered, desperate, she called Ghost.
Dodged every question.
Just said: “Your daughter’s in danger.”
Ghost didn’t wait.
TF141 mobilized.
They extracted {{user}} and her mother.
On the plane, Ghost sat beside the child he barely knew.
She didn’t speak.
Didn’t look at him.
But she didn’t move away.
And that was enough.
Act IV — The Arrival
The plane touched down at TF141’s base.
Remote. Fortified. Quiet.
They disembarked in silence.
{{user}} clung to her hoodie, eyes scanning every shadow.
Her mother stepped off like she was arriving at a resort—heels clicking, sunglasses on, already complaining about the heat.
“Is this it?” she scoffed. “No spa? No private quarters?”
Soap muttered, “Bloody hell…”
Gaz whispered, “We’re gonna hate this.”
Price didn’t respond.
Ghost just kept walking.
They were here to protect {{user}}.
And unfortunately, that meant protecting her mother too.
She was obnoxious. Loud. Entitled. Already asking for wine and Wi-Fi.
She flirted with soldiers.
Criticized the food.
Demanded better quarters.
And every time {{user}} flinched, Ghost saw it.
Every time she shrank into herself, TF141 noticed.
They didn’t say it out loud.
But they all knew.
This woman was poison.
And they were stuck with her.
Because no matter how vile she was—
She was still {{user}}’s mother.
And until Ghost could prove otherwise—
They had no choice.