Chapter 3: The Price of Blind Faith

I returned home for Thanksgiving.

Sylvia was fawning over Leo, calling him her "precious boy."

When she saw me, her expression soured. She quickly pivoted to bragging that Leo had scored a 99 on his recent test, claiming that being one point shy of perfect was absolute proof of his "holy" nature.

He was in the sixth grade.

I just nodded, humoring her.

I noticed Leo had put on a significant amount of weight. Sylvia had clearly been overfeeding him, exempting him from household chores to protect her supposedly divine son.

His personality had taken a turn for the worse, too. Once merely mischievous, he now sneered at everyone around him. Spoiled by his newly minted "blessed" status, he acted as though the rest of us were beneath him.

This time around, I decided to step back and let them reap what they sowed, quietly curious to see whether Leo's "holy" destiny would turn out to be a blessing or a curse.

Not long after, Leo got into a fight at school.

Sylvia rushed straight over to defend her darling boy.

It turned out that Leo, eager to flaunt his "holy" status, had been bullying his classmates and ruthlessly mocking their mistakes.

Naturally, the other kids started to shun him; nobody wants to play with a verbal bully.

I stayed completely silent, just watching the drama unfold.

Used to getting his way at home, Leo had started expecting the same worship at school. When a dispute flared up, he threw a punch at another kid and lost miserably, ending up with a bruised face.

His cataracts had likely blurred his vision, and his newly acquired bulk certainly didn't do him any favors in a scuffle.

Heartbroken over his injuries, Sylvia demanded that the other parents answer for the incident.

Even after the truth of the situation came to light, she continued to rage. "So what? My son is holy! And your kid isn't exactly blameless, either. Why didn't he just give Leo what he wanted?"

A stunned silence fell over the room.

The teacher's expression darkened, but no one knew quite what to say.

Thinking she had won the argument, Sylvia strutted around like a peacock.

Eventually, the teacher stepped in to mediate and put an end to the fiasco.

On the drive home, Sylvia relentlessly drilled her twisted logic into Leo. "You are holy. They should always defer to you."

I trailed behind them, suppressing a sigh. Spoiling a child like that is just setting them up for a massive failure.

A perfectly decent boy was being ruined right in front of me.

But that wasn't my problem. I was just a broke college student living under their roof.

Soon enough, Leo's eyesight began to deteriorate further. He struggled to see clearly and constantly flinched at bright lights.

Vince, who was home for a brief visit, took one look at his son and angrily smashed a beer bottle against the floor.

"Sylvia! You told me he was holy! Why is he like this? The kid is practically blind!"

He glared at her. "I work my butt off to provide for us, and you just sit around the house ruining my son?"

Instantly defensive, Sylvia snapped back. "Your boy? He's mine, too! Do you honestly think I don't care about him?"

The shouting quickly escalated into shoving, and furniture crashed to the floor.

Meanwhile, Leo—who had always sworn he would repay his mother's devotion—hid in his bedroom, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

So much for the "holy" family Sylvia had dreamed of building.

Banking on a so-called "blessed" son as a ticket to wealth was nothing short of delusional.

Soon after, Leo developed severe stomach aches and diarrhea.

Feigning concern, I offered a suggestion. "Maybe his holy spirit is stirring. Why don't you take him to Mama Cleo?"

Sylvia agreed instantly.

At Mama Cleo's place, the woman solemnly declared that an "evil spirit" was targeting Leo's body, attempting to possess him.

I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. The woman was a classic con artist.

Blurry vision, night blindness, and light sensitivity? Those were just textbook cataracts.

And the stomach issues? That was undoubtedly from drinking her ridiculous ash-water.

Cleo began peddling her "protective" trinkets, recommending one for the house and another for Leo to carry at all times.

Honestly, I wondered why she was wasting her talents scamming people in this backwater town when she could easily be a top-tier car salesperson with a pitch like that.

I lounged on the porch, casually munching on sunflower seeds while silently critiquing her hustle.

Even Sylvia, as gullible as she was, hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure? We're honest people. Why would an evil spirit come after us?"

I nearly snorted out loud. Honest? Her?

Cleo just shot her a knowing look, said absolutely nothing, and retreated deeper into the house.

Panicked for her "holy" son, Sylvia hurried after her.

I tagged along, genuinely curious to see how the rest of the performance would play out.

Cleo knelt on the floor, chanting in a low voice and waving burning incense. She asked the spirits to reveal if a dark entity was truly plaguing Leo.

Right on cue, all three incense sticks snapped in half.

Sylvia gasped in horror.

Thoroughly convinced, she bought the trinkets along with several more charms, dropping a staggering $15,000 in total.

After handing over the money, she muttered to herself that the future riches Leo would bring them would far outweigh this temporary expense.

She was completely blind to the fact that it was an obvious setup, just easy money for a seasoned con artist.

Eventually, the time came for Leo's middle school entrance exam results.

Sylvia had spent weeks swearing to our relatives that he would ace the test, boasting endlessly about his intellect.

In reality, he had skipped classes, ignored his textbooks, and relied on cheating to get by.

Acing anything was nothing more than a pipe dream for him.

Still, Sylvia's unwavering confidence had actually made a few relatives wonder if the boy might truly be "holy."

That is just how small-town families operate. They keep their distance until a major milestone—like an exam, a new job, or a wedding—comes up and sparks a fresh wave of gossip.

If you are doing worse than them, they feign pity while subtly flaunting their own successes. If you are doing better, they quietly slink off, only to badmouth you behind your back later.

Everyone sat in tense silence, waiting for the news.

"The results are out!"