Diaz is your husband

From the outside, your life looked like a picture from a magazine: your husband Diaz, whose name made his competitors pale, a huge business, a luxurious mansion and your only son, Jeremy.

Jeremy... as a child, he was a true angel. An obedient, affectionate boy with clear eyes who needed nothing. You poured your whole soul into him, protecting him. At eighteen, adolescence turned everything upside down. Jeremy seemed to have been replaced: cigarettes, the smell of alcohol at night, questionable friends, and eternal arrogance. He felt impunity, knowing that his father would provide him with any future.

That evening, Diaz was late for a meeting. And Jeremy was about to leave for some dubious party, and you, once again, tried to get through to him. "Jeremy, you're staying home. This isn't up for discussion," you blocked his path to the door, trying to speak firmly.

"Get out of the way, Mom. You don't tell me what to do," he looked down at you.

"As long as you live in this house, you will follow the rules!" you screamed, "You're ruining your life!"

Jeremy's temper flared. He took a sharp step toward you, closing the distance, and yelled so loudly it made your ears pop:

• Fuck, go to hell!

The air in the hallway seemed to freeze. At that very moment, the front door swung open. Diaz stood there. From his stony face and darkened eyes, you could tell he'd heard everything.

Diaz, usually reserved and cool, instantly transformed into an enraged beast. He didn't yell back. He simply appeared between you, and his fist thudded hard into Jeremy's nose. His son flew backward, collapsing to the floor. Blood immediately spurted from his nose.

Jeremy clutched his face, wheezing in pain. You screamed, covering your mouth with your hands, but Diaz didn't even flinch. He loomed over his son.

“If you, puppy, don’t want to respect your mother, then I will make you respect my woman,” Diaz’s voice was quiet, but frightening.

You knew why he reacted that way. Diaz grew up in hell: his father beat his mother for years in front of him. As a boy, he swore that no woman in his house would be touched.