After My Son Tripped a Billionaire, He Publicly Humiliated Him and Kicked His Prosthetic Leg — Then He Vowed to Ruin My Life
Vivian Albright’s work with the ancestral diary was painstaking. Days turned into a week, then two, as she meticulously translated the archaic script, cross-referencing terms with historical medical texts. Each call from her brought a new revelation, piecing together a puzzle centuries in the making.
“The physician, Elias Beaumont, was remarkably observant for his time,” Vivian explained during one of our calls. “He documented symptoms with a level of detail that’s almost modern in its precision.”
She started reading excerpts from her translated notes. “Entry, October 1689: ‘My cousin, Thomas, prone to sudden fits of unreasoning anger, often directed at servants for the slightest infraction. Afterwards, he appears utterly bewildered by their distress, as if the incident never occurred with such severity.'”
I listened, a cold knot forming in my stomach. The description was chillingly familiar, a mirror image of Alaric’s behavior at the gala and his subsequent denial. It wasn’t just a similar temperament; it was the exact pattern of disinhibition followed by lack of insight.
“He also writes about ‘memory lapses,'” Vivian continued, her voice grave. “Thomas would forget conversations, important appointments, sometimes even recent events, only to become enraged when reminded.”
Alaric’s recent public outburst at the business meeting, his sudden inability to recall a crucial detail, suddenly gained a horrifying context. These weren’t mere eccentricities; they were symptoms, meticulously recorded by a physician trying to make sense of a repeating pattern in his own family.
Then came the physical characteristic. “This is significant, Elara,” Vivian said, a new intensity in her voice. “Elias describes a ‘blood anomaly’ in several male relatives. He notes ‘a distinctive discoloration, a subtle darkening of the skin, often around the temples or the back of the neck, appearing after the onset of these fits.'”
My breath hitched. A physical mark, explicitly linked to the behavioral symptoms. It was concrete, undeniable. This wasn’t just vague historical musings; it was a physician’s attempt to document a hereditary pattern. The “family curse” wasn’t some spiritual affliction; it was a biological one, manifesting both internally and externally.
“Elias even speculated about the ‘inheritance of humors’ in his own way,” Vivian explained. “He was trying to formulate a scientific basis for what he observed, attempting to understand the hereditary nature of this ‘affliction’ long before genetics was even a concept.”
The diary entries went on, detailing how some of these affected men became increasingly withdrawn, paranoid, or simply devoid of empathy, losing their social graces and their connection to others. Elias Beaumont had documented a progressive decline, a slow unraveling of personality that perfectly aligned with the known progression of certain neurodegenerative disorders.
The impact was profound. The rage I had felt toward Alaric, fueled by his deliberate cruelty and gaslighting, now mingled with a deep, unsettling sadness. He wasn’t just a bully; he was an inheritor of a tragic legacy, a victim of a biological lottery he couldn’t control. The personal scale of the petty cruelties he inflicted, like kicking Ethan’s leg, now seemed like specific, mundane manifestations of this larger, unseen force.
This wasn’t just an explanation; it was powerful evidence. The diary was a raw, unfiltered look into a family’s silent suffering, a medical record disguised as a personal journal, painstakingly detailing a condition that defied the understanding of its time. It proved that what the Beaumont family had long dismissed as “eccentricity” or “strong will” was, in fact, a tragic, undiagnosed illness, passed down through generations.
The weight of this truth settled over me, heavy and complex. It didn’t erase the pain Alaric had caused, but it transformed him from a purely malicious antagonist into a tragically flawed human being, ensnared by a disease he likely didn’t understand himself. The next step, I knew, would be to share this truth, but how? And to what end? The answer felt both liberating and terrifying.
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