She remembered everything from the past.
And she still remembered yesterday at the airport-Adrian and Giselle, hand in hand, clinging to each other like they couldn''t bear to be apart.
Did Adrian really miss her?
Maybe, M thought. After all, she was her biological mother. But she''d never mean as much to Adrian as Giselle did. It was better this way-keeping their distance, seeing each other only asionally.
It wasn''t her business anymore.
...
Later, when Adrian started fidgeting in little angry ways, M deliberately ignored it. She kept herposure, calmly moving food onto her te as if nothing was wrong.
She listened but said nothing.
Unexpectedly, halfway through dinner, Lysander took a call and had to leave early. He asked M to take Adrian home, or to have the family driver pick him up.
As soon as he left, M let out a sigh of relief.
Finally, he''s gone.
"Are you mad at Dad?" Adrian suddenly blurted out, having watched his mother from the corner of his eye the whole time, and noticing her rx.
M answered coolly, "No."
"Liar," Adrian huffed. "As soon as Dad left, you smiled. Mom, why do you keep lying today?"
There was no dodging this "lying" topic today, it seemed.
M''s heart gave a little twist. She paused, then asked, "Adrian, if your father and
I really did have a fight—a serious one-what would you think?"
Adrian frowned, troubled. "How serious?"
"...Very serious," M said gently. "So serious we wouldn''t want to see each other, or even hear each other speak. The kind of fight where you can''t stand being in the same room."
Adrian scrunched up his face, thinking hard. Then, out of nowhere, he piped up, "Mom, are you and Dad going through the seven-year itch?"
"...Who told you about that?" M was startled.
"A kid in my ss," Adrian replied. "He said his parents fight all the time at home. His mom''s always crying and yelling about the seven-year itch, that his dad doesn''t love her anymore. It''s a mess. He''s scared of going home-he even said he wants to live with us instead."
Adrian frowned. “But you and Dad don''t fight or yell."
M wanted to tell him that what was between her and Lysander wasn''t the seven-year itch—it was just pure hatred. But how could she exin adult grudges to a seven-year-old? That would only burden him, make him anxious, and leave him with a shadow over his view of family.
While she was still searching for the right words, a small figure suddenly came running from across the room, a clear, childish voice calling out:
"Mom!"
Before she could react, someone flung their arms around her.
M''s mind went nk for a moment. She hadn''t even registered what happened when Adrian, sitting beside her, exploded-reaching out to yank the other child off her waist.
"Who are you?!" Adrian''s face turned red with anger, his voice sharp. "Let go! Stop hugging my mom and calling her that she''s my mom! My mom!"
But the little boy clinging to M refused to let go. At Adrian''s words, he burst into loud, heartbroken sobs. "You''re lying! She''s my mom! My mom! I won''t let go!"
"Let go!"
"No!"
"Let go!"
"I won''t!"
The scene devolved into chaos-shouting, crying, the two children''s voices rising over each other. M''s head pounded, her nerves frayed. She was still recovering,
and all this noise felt like it would split her skull open.
She recognized the voice of the boy in her arms.
It was Julian Pembroke.
Remembering his already fragile mental state-and how her abrupt
disappearancest time might have made it worse-M hurried tofort him, worried he''d be pushed over the edge.
"Julian, sweetheart, let go for a second, okay?" she soothed, straining as the boy clung to her waist.
She hadn''t expected him to be so strong.
But as soon as she spoke, Adrian''s anger red. He shrieked, "Mom, why are you talking to him like that?!"
What did she do now?
M pressed her fingers to her brow, about to calm Adrian, when she saw him suddenly lose control. He grabbed a te from the table and hurled it at Julian''s head, wild and hysterical.
"Adrian!"
M''s eyes widened in shock. She instinctively reached out to shield Julian.
Crash-
Porcin shattered. A sharp pain shot through her, and bright red blood began to drip from her hand as M winced.
...
Adrian''s face went pale.
He stared at the bloody cut on his mother''s hand, his head swimming. The image
of his mother lying in a bloodstained bed, silent tears on her cheeks, shed through his mind.
His chest tightened, panic rising.
"Mom, I—I didn''t mean to, I''m sorry, Mom, I didn''t want to hurt you, I didn''t mean for you to bleed, I swear I didn''t," he babbled, desperately grabbing her hand and rubbing it, trying to erase the blood.
"If I wipe it away, it''ll be okay, it won''t exist, Mom, please don''t bleed, don''t bleed... please, I''m begging you..."
Sensing Adrian''s distress, M ignored her own pain and signaled the nearby bodyguard to pick up the children.
Just then, Julian felt something warm and sticky on his face. He looked up instinctively and saw the vivid red blood. His expression went nk for a split second-then he copsed to the floor, clutching his head and screaming in terror.
"Blood! Blood!"
"Don''t kill me! Please don''t kill me!"
He grabbed M''s outstretched hand, his face streaked with tears, his voice raw: "Mom, don''t leave me, don''t kill me, please, don''t kill me..."
And then, the boy fainted dead away.
The scene had descended into total chaos-screaming, crying, everything pounding in M''s already fragile head like a sledgehammer. She bit her tongue until she tasted blood, jolting herself back to focus, and hurried to gather the two children for the hospital.
The bodyguards were already scooping the boys up. Adrian struggled wildly, still shouting.
"Julian!"
At that moment, Nathaniel Pembroke-who''d been searching frantically for his son-came rushing in, panic and shock written all over his face. M could only wince as a fresh wave of pain hit her.
This was going to be a mess.