The Prodigal Son Returns: How Betrayal Led to Total Defeat
Jasper was sprawled on the sofa, glued to yet another binge-worthy series, when his father walked in. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in his voice.
“Son, we need to talk.”
“Go on then,” Jasper replied, eyes still fixed on the screen.
“Your wife came to see me. Says you’ve been acting odd lately. Anything wrong?”
“Everything’s fine,” Jasper brushed him off.
“Fine?” Edward Lancaster calmly picked up the tablet from the table, opened a photo, and turned it toward his son. Jasper looked—and froze.
Once, Edward and Margaret had been the picture of love—building a business together, walking through life side by side, though it wasn’t until they were thirty-eight that their long-awaited son arrived. Jasper was adored, spoiled rotten, raised without a hint of discipline. Naturally, he grew up entitled, selfish, and bone-idle.
After barely scraping through university—thanks to his parents’ deep pockets—Jasper declared he was exhausted. Work? Not for him. “We’ve got enough money anyway,” he’d say.
Edward insisted he learn independence, but Margaret always jumped to his defense.
“Let him have a break. Plenty of time to grind later.”
Her husband just sighed, knowing full well his son was hopeless.
Jasper lived like a wastrel—endless parties, holidays in Marbella, a revolving door of girlfriends. He totaled the expensive car they’d gifted him, walked away unscathed, but the shock sent his mother to hospital. A year later, she was gone. With her died any last shred of discipline in Jasper’s life. He bled her savings dry, barely bothering to hide it.
Then he brought home his latest fling—Scarlett. Young, flashy, selfish. Edward saw trouble a mile off and tried to talk sense into him.
“Emily’s the one for you. Clever, steady, dependable. She’s loved you since you were kids.”
“Emily’s dull,” Jasper shot back. “Scarlett’s a riot.”
But the riot turned into a disaster. A raucous party left the house wrecked, the housekeeper in tears, and Edward fuming.
“Either sort yourself out, or get out.”
Jasper smirked.
“Can’t I have guests in my own home?”
“This is *my* home,” Edward said evenly. “You’ve got the flat. Go there—make merry all you like.”
So Jasper left, but kept draining his mother’s accounts. As it turned out, Scarlett wasn’t in it for love. Within two years, they were broke—even sold the flat to pay off debts. Then Scarlett vanished with another man, leaving Jasper holding the baby.
And that’s how he returned—pale, ragged, humbled, six-month-old Oliver in his arms.
“I’ve got nowhere else to go,” he whispered.
His father let him in. But there were three conditions: get his act together, find a job, and marry… Emily.
And Emily agreed. All those years, she’d never stopped loving him. She embraced Oliver as her own—and a DNA test proved he *was* Edward Lancaster’s grandson.
For three years, peace reigned. Jasper seemed changed. Worked, stayed in, put family first. But then he started acting odd—vanishing at night, mood swings. One evening, Edward hired a private investigator. The photos came back: Jasper meeting Scarlett.
“Why were you with her?” Edward demanded, slamming the tablet down.
“She’s Oliver’s mother,” Jasper said.
“She’s the root of all your misery. Stay away. And make sure she forgets the way to this house. I’ll see to it she loses all rights.”
A week later, Jasper disappeared—last seen climbing into a car with Scarlett.
Edward never recovered from the betrayal. Emily and Oliver were there in his final days. As for Jasper? He resurfaced four months later—tan, smug, Scarlett on his arm.
“Hello,” he grinned at Emily. “You haven’t changed. We’re here about the inheritance.”
“Shouldn’t have bothered. It’s all settled,” Emily said. “Oliver, love, go upstairs. Your father and I need to talk.”
The boy obeyed. Then, perfectly calm, Emily continued.
“Everything belongs to me and Oliver. Legally, I’m his mother.”
“What?!” Jasper and Scarlett gasped.
“All done proper. Your rights? Null and void. You get nothing.”
“We’re his parents!” Scarlett screeched.
“No.” Oliver’s voice was quiet but firm from the stairs. “Parents are the ones who stay. Emily’s my mum. You—you’re nobody.”
Security showed the uninvited guests out. Jasper realised—he’d lost. Like always.
