Author's note: Thanks to Alexielle7 and Midnight-Owl913 for the beta work! I intend to post one or two chapters a week, hope you'll enjoy my new story!

"What's that racket?!" Regina yelled, bursting into her son's bedroom where Henry was playing the cello. He raised his bow from the strings.

"Apocalyptica," the gangly fourteen-year old answered, gazing at her defiantly.

"That's not music," Regina stated coldly. "That's just noise. You've been playing the same three chords for the last ten minutes. Stop wasting your time, I want to hear some scales now."

"But Mum!" Henry protested. "I like playing hard rock! Cello is so lame. Why can't I play the guitar?"

Regina was aware that pretending he hated playing the cello was Henry's new way of getting under her skin. He had been playing it since he was six. She had let him pick his instrument, explaining that it was a long-term commitment. Eight years later, he was actually beginning to sound quite good. He had no particular gift for music though. But with more time and practice…

"You know why," she firmly answered. "We've talked about that a million times. Guitar is a mere hobby." Her tone was dismissive. "What can you hope for? Earning quarters and dimes playing at street corners?"

"Maybe I don't want to make a living out of it." Henry pointed out.

"Well, you'll get to decide when you go to college. Until then, you keep playing the cello. Mills don't quit."

"It's not fair!" Henry protested. "All the cool kids at school get to play the guitar or the drums, and I'm the nerd with the cello who plays in the school orchestra like a girl!"

"There's nothing wrong with boys playing the cello," said Regina unsympathetically. "Most of the great cellists are men. Besides, you're not the only boy in the school orchestra. Those amateur guitar players are pathetic - they couldn't play real music to save their lives. At least, you can read a score."

"Yeah, like that makes me cool," Henry muttered, his bow hanging loosely from his right hand.

"Well, it certainly should! Playing the Bach suites at fourteen is much cooler than rattling a guitar to impress some stupid teenage girls who can't tell the difference between a cat meowing and a minuet," Regina explained impatiently. "Speaking of which – let me hear that minuet in D now!"

Henry glared at her, and Regina could feel that he wanted to argue and rebel, to act out in some way so as to establish his right to contradict her and do whatever he wanted. She glared sternly back at him. After hesitating, he finally complied.

She listened to her son's spiritless playing with aggravation. Henry had always been difficult, but things were only getting worse since he was a teenager. He now seemed determined to ruin the last thing they still shared, playing classical music.

What had she done wrong? She had raised him as her own flesh and blood, had taken care of him, given him everything she could. He was healthy, well fed, well dressed. He had a PS 4 console and attended a good school. He had his own room, bike and cello.

And yet, Henry was convinced that Regina didn't love him, and never stopped challenging her in every possible way. He had spent years in therapy to no avail – he still hated her. Sometimes Regina thought she might hate him too, ever so briefly, and wished she could slap his sullen face, or send him to boarding school until he went off to college. It was a lonely job to be a single parent, and more so when your only kid wished you were not his mother.

Surely it was an awful thought for a mother to have, but Regina wondered at times – would it be so hard if Henry hadn't been adopted – if he were her own flesh and blood?

Henry could feel Regina coldly appraising him as he played on autopilot, and was convinced that she despised him. He had long been aware that she wasn't going to be easily satisfied with him in any way, especially not as a musician. So much for having a professional violin player as a mother. And so much for being the adopted son of the Evil Queen, as her colleagues from the symphony orchestra called her behind her back. The only thing she truly cherished was her damn violin.

But tonight was not the night to confront his mother. Henry had other plans and wanted her off his back. He had finally found the hiding place where Regina kept all the papers related to his adoption, and discovered his real mother's name. Whatever the reason why she had given him up for adoption, mothers were supposed to love their kids, right? She had to be a better mother than Regina. He couldn't wait to meet her.