Our Family's Enemy
At that moment, I still didn't know that today would be like a stone thrown into a tranquil lake, stirring our lives into a raging storm.
Just over ten minutes later, the doorbell was suddenly battered with 'bang bang' sounds—not by pressing, but kicked so violently that the family portrait hanging on the wall shook, its glass edges striking the wall and producing faint, shattered noises.
The wine glass in Father's hand froze mid-air; his face, which had just been smiling, instantly darkened.
I had never seen him wear such an expression—his brows furrowed into a tight knot, his eyes frozen like ice, and even his fingertips stretched so taut they turned pale.
He put down his chopsticks and quietly nudged me behind Mother, his voice barely above a whisper: "Wendy, take Sam to the bedroom and lock the door."
Mother had just stood up when the wooden door was slammed open with a bang.
A crowd surged in. Leading them was a woman dressed in black leather, her zipper pulled all the way up, her hair dyed a deep wine-red, strands clinging to her cheeks. Her gaze was like a poisoned blade, and as it swept across the living room, even the air seemed to chill.
It was only later that I learned her name was Quincy Xavier, the enemy my father had buried deep in his heart for many years.
Mother said that this person had entangled our family in an unresolvable grudge since Father was barely a teenager.
Quincy's gaze skipped over me and Father, locking directly onto Mother, clutching a fruit knife in her hand; its blade gleamed coldly under the light like a serpent flicking its tongue.
"Wendy Scott! You're exactly who I've been looking for!" Her voice was sharp and piercing. "Tim Lincoln has hidden away all these years, thinking that marrying and having children would let him live peacefully?"
I screamed in terror, trying to rush over and grab Mother's hand, but Father quickly pulled me into his arms, pressing me to his chest. With his other hand, he swiftly reached under the sofa—that was where he kept his defensive stun baton. He had taught me before that if any intruder came, I should hide behind the sofa and wait for him to get it.
"Quincy Xavier, dare touch her and see what happens!" Father's voice came out through clenched teeth, icy and sharp. "The court ruled long ago on what happened back then. How long do you plan to keep making a scene?"
But Quincy Xavier paid no heed, lunging at Mother like a woman possessed.
Mother dodged to the side but was still scratched on the arm; blood quickly seeped out, staining her off-white sleeve a vivid red.
I struggled desperately in Father's arms, shouting, "Don't hurt Mother," and in that moment, I heard Quincy Xavier's knife plunging into Mother's chest.
Mother collapsed to the ground, her eyes locked onto mine; her lips moved as if to say "Don't be afraid," but no sound escaped.
Blood trickled down her clothes, pooling on the floor into a small, terrifying puddle, blooming like a crimson flower in bloom.
Quincy Xavier crouched down and nudged Mother's arm with her foot, then turned to Father with a twisted smile: "Tim Lincoln, look, your wife is about to collapse! When you crashed into my father that year, did you ever think of today?"
She paused, then her gaze swept to me, growing even fiercer. "If I see it happen again, I will cut off your son's head, and you will know what it means to have your family destroyed and your life shattered!"
Father suddenly tightened his grip on my arm, the pressure making my ribs ache, yet he did not let go.
He shoved me behind the sofa, his voice trembling yet utterly resolute: "Sam, stay here. Don't come out!"
After saying that, he reached into the drawer and pulled out a gun — the one he had specially licensed and kept at home after encountering danger during his business last year. I had only seen it once, when he was cleaning it.
"Quincy Xavier, you're asking for death!" Father shouted, raising the gun and aiming at her calf. "Bang," "bang" — two shots.
Quincy screamed in agony and collapsed to the floor. Blood quickly spread through her black leather jacket, staining the floor a deeper red.
Father stepped forward, pointing the gun at her head, his hand steady: "I didn't aim for your vital spots, not out of mercy, but to keep you alive—to make you pay for what happened today behind bars! You hurt my wife, threatened my son; don't ever expect to walk free again!"
Those who came with Quincy Xavier tried to step forward, but Father turned and shot them a glare so fierce they froze instantly in place.
When Mother was carried away by the ambulance, I held her hand tightly. It was cold, like a block of ice in winter.
I kept calling "Mother," my voice hoarse, until she reluctantly opened her eyes, touching my face with her uninjured hand, and whispered weakly, "Sam... don't be afraid..."
At the Hospital, Mother was immediately taken into the operating room. When the red light came on, Father sat on the bench in the hallway, his eyes reddening for the first time before me.
He held a cigarette between his fingers but forgot to light it. Several empty cigarette packs had already been tossed onto the floor.
I walked over and tugged at his sleeve. "Father, Mother will be fine, won't she?"
Father threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his foot, then reached out to lift me up, his voice choked with emotion: "It will be okay, it definitely will."Father has already called the best doctor; Mother will get better soon."
He took out his phone and dialed the lawyer's number, his tone firm once more: "Lawyer Clark, go to my house immediately and secure the evidence of Quincy Xavier injuring someone, along with all the old incidents where she caused me trouble and hit Wendy Scott's car. Find everything. This time, I want her to rot behind bars!"
After hanging up, Father called the community security office again, asking them to increase patrols and prevent Quincy Xavier's people from coming near our home.
I lay in his arms, catching the scent of smoke on him and a faint trace of disinfectant, suddenly realizing that Father wasn't unkind; his tenderness was simply hidden in the way he protected us.
Shortly after, the community security captain called to say they had stationed two guards on duty 24 hours downstairs from our building, and had adjusted the surrounding surveillance cameras so that any strangers approaching would be detected immediately.
Father expressed his gratitude repeatedly and urged the security to keep a close watch on Quincy's associates—he feared they might exploit the chaos to cause further trouble.
After hanging up, Father dialed Mr. Lee, a private detective and an old acquaintance who had helped Father handle many troublesome matters before.
"Tim, I've already stationed someone near Quincy Xavier's ward. The moment there's any movement, I'll inform you immediately."Mr. Lee's voice came through the receiver, calm and confident.
Father sighed with relief and said to me, "Sam, look— with so many people helping us, we no longer have to fear Quincy."
I nodded half in understanding, but my eyes remained fixed on the red light above the operating room, silently hoping Mother would come out soon.
Mother stayed in the operating room for four hours. When she came out, the Doctor said the surgery had been very successful, but she needed to be observed in the ICU for two days.
Father stays outside the ICU every day, arriving at six in the morning and leaving only at ten at night. Except for buying me meals, he hardly ever leaves.
He slips my drawings through the gap in the glass and tells Mother, "Sam drew a picture of our family of three at school today, and said that when you get better, he wants to make red bean mooncakes with you and take you to the park to fly kites."
Once, I asked Father if Mother could hear me.
Father patted my head and said, "Yes, Mother must be able to hear you; she loves Sam the most."
ICU doesn't allow children inside, so I can only watch Mother through the glass.
Mother lay on the hospital bed, with many tubes attached to her body, her face pale as paper.
I pressed my face against the glass and whispered to Mother, "Mom, I got a little red flower at school today, and the teacher praised me for being so well-behaved. Please get better soon, okay?"
As I spoke, tears began to fall, and Father quickly took out a tissue to wipe them away for me, but he turned his head aside—I knew he was crying silently, too.
Two days later, Mother was finally transferred to a regular ward.
The first thing she asked upon waking was whether I had been scared, then she inquired about the lawyer's progress.
Father handed her a file he had prepared long ago, densely packed with writing: "This is the evidence list compiled by Lawyer Clark, including Quincy's knife, the surveillance footage from the scene, and the recordings of her previous threats against me."
He paused for a moment, then produced another document. "This is the application for a personal safety protection order. Once the court approves it, if she comes within a meter of us again, she can be arrested immediately."
I leaned in to look; on the document was Father's signature, and he had circled in red pen the words: "Absolutely Unforgiving."
Father shook his head, his gaze solemn: "Back then, her father crashed into my parents and the court held him fully responsible. I didn't make things difficult for her because she was still very young—only in her teens—and it felt pitiful for her to have lost her father."
"But over the years, she has continuously caused us trouble. The last time, when you were pregnant with Sam, she deliberately rammed your car—fortunately, you weren't hurt; This time was even worse—she stabbed you with a knife. If I were to soften now, it would be irresponsible to you and your child."
After listening, Mother leaned on Father's shoulder and whispered, "Thank you for your hard work."
Father patted her back and said, "We are family; there's no need to say such things."
That afternoon, Lawyer Clark also arrived.
He held a stack of documents and carefully explained the case to Father and Mother: "Quincy Xavier is suspected this time of intentional injury, with conclusive evidence. Furthermore, she has prior convictions for intentional harm and provoking trouble. This time, she faces at least five years. If she refuses to plead guilty, we can seek an even harsher sentence."
Father nodded and said, "No matter how long her sentence, she must understand the cost of hurting my family."
Lawyer Clark added, "Quincy Xavier is still recovering in the hospital, and the police have stationed officers to guard her. She won't escape.""I've already coordinated with the hospital. Once she improves a bit, she will be sent directly to the detention center."
Mother asked, "What about compensation? She has thrown our family into chaos, and the medical expenses have been substantial."
Lawyer Clark said, "Rest assured, we will file a criminal case with a civil compensation claim, making her pay for all medical expenses, lost wages, and property damage to our home."
After Lawyer Clark left, Mother asked Father to give the house keys to Mr. Lewis, the butler, so he could help tidy up.
Mr. Lewis is our family's longtime butler; he raised me and has always been especially kind to us.
When Father called Mr. Lewis, I overheard him say, "Rest assured, sir, I've already cleaned the bloodstains in the living room. The sofa damaged by the knife has been repaired. It's just that Sam's teddy bear was stepped on by Quincy Xavier; I'll buy a new one for Sam tomorrow."
I quickly replied, "Mr. Lewis, there's no need to buy one. I've already sewn the teddy bear. Though it looks a bit shabby, it's still my little bear."
Father handed me the phone. Mr. Lewis laughed on the call, saying, 'Sam is such a good boy. When the gentleman and lady come back, Mr. Lewis will cook your favorite braised pork for you.'
The day before the trial, Father suddenly called Mother and me into the study and locked the door.
I felt a bit anxious, thinking something was wrong. Then he took a tablet from his briefcase and played a video—recorded by Mr. Lee. Quincy Xavier was at the hospital, talking on the phone to a man, saying she planned to find an opportunity to take revenge on us and even kidnap me, making Father 'pay the price.'
"Earlier, I deliberately told the neighbors 'Forget it'—it was a message directed at Quincy Xavier, to make her think I had softened and lowered my guard. In truth, I had already instructed Mr. Lee to keep a close watch on her."Father pointed at the man in the video. "This is her accomplice, Ben. He hit your car before. I've already sent the video to the police; they are now searching for him."
He then produced another document—not a letter of forgiveness, but a supplementary clause to the 'Plea of Guilty and Acceptance of Punishment Agreement': "If Quincy wants a reduced sentence, she must sign it, promising never to approach us again for the rest of her life, and also compensate for all damages, including Sam's psychological counseling fees. The doctor said Sam was traumatized by this incident and needs to see a counselor."
Father handed me the document. Though I couldn't understand the words on it, when I saw the phrase "Absolutely no contact with Sam and his family," I nodded firmly. "Alright! She can't bully Mother anymore, and she can't come near me either!"
Mother touched my head, smiling as she said to Father, "You really thought this through—you even arranged for Sam's psychological counseling."
Father scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "I just didn't want you to worry, so I didn't tell you in advance."
But we never got to wait for the court hearing—Quincy Xavier fled from the hospital.
That afternoon, as I came home from school and had just opened the door, a sharp smell of gasoline hit me.
In the living room, Quincy Xavier stood beside the sofa, still wrapped in bandages. In one hand, he held a lighter; in the other, a can of oil, a wild grin twisting across his face: "Where is Tim Lincoln? Bring him out! I know he's playing me!"
Mother reacted swiftly, pulling me behind her and quietly slipping a phone out of her pocket—that emergency phone Father had specially given her, which with one press would connect directly to Father's phone and the neighborhood security office.
But Quincy was quick and sharp; with a kick, he sent Mother's phone crashing to the floor, the screen fracturing like a spider's web.
"Want to call the police? No chance!" Quincy Xavier twisted open the oil can, and gasoline flowed from its mouth, dripping onto the floor with a sizzling sound.
I recalled the emergency plan Father taught me and grabbed Mother, running toward the kitchen: "Mother, the kitchen has a back door! And Father's fire extinguisher is hidden there!"
Before the kitchen door could close, Quincy Xavier chased after us, grabbed my collar, and dragged me to the floor: "You kids dare to fight me? Today, I'll burn you and your mother to death together!"
Mother lunged forward, grasping Quincy Xavier's arm and urging me to run quickly: "Sam, go get the fire extinguisher!"
I crawled beneath the cabinet and felt the dry powder fire extinguisher Father had hidden—he had specifically taught me how to use it before. He said, "Don't panic in a fire; first pull the safety pin, then spray at the base of the flames."
I pulled the safety pin with force and sprayed in Quincy Xavier's direction.
The white powder instantly billowed out. Quincy Xavier coughed violently, loosening her grip on Mother.
Mother quickly grabbed me and hid behind the refrigerator, pressing the emergency alarm on the wall—installed by Father; one press would trigger the neighborhood's security alert, and the guards would arrive immediately.
"Quincy Xavier, you can't run away now!" Mother's voice trembled slightly, but she was not afraid.
Quincy wiped the dry powder off her face and raised a lighter to strike again, but at that moment, hurried footsteps came from the doorway—it was Father and the security guards.
Father held another fire extinguisher, first spraying around us to prevent the gasoline from igniting, then rushing forward and pinning Quincy to the ground. "You still want to run? I already expected this move from you. Mr. Lee told me you contacted Ben yesterday. I even took leave from work to wait nearby!"
Security quickly stepped forward and handcuffed Quincy Xavier. She was still struggling, shouting, "Tim Lincoln, I won't let you get away!" But Father paid her no attention; he turned and held Mother and me close, his voice trembling, "It's alright, it's alright, Father is here."
I pressed myself against Father's chest and saw that his arm was cut, blood seeping out and staining his sleeve red.
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