Having witnessed Charles cowering before Barbara like a whipped dog, the household staff gradually dismissed his importance. They grew careless with his meals and clothes, and his school attendance became sporadic.
For decent food, he must wait until Barbara finished and left him scraps.
The sharp rays of dawn pierced night’s cocoon, the first light landing like nimble golden threads on the child’s face.
Jin Rivera approached the bedroom trembling with apprehension, cautiously watching Barbara applying skincare in the room: “Aunt Barbara.”
He spoke timidly: “Alan and I planned to go to the riding club. I already told Dad…”
Long ago during afternoon tea, his mother and Alan’s mother had agreed to take the children riding when free. They’d actually gone several times already–Mom even bought him an adorable pony. Recently Alan mentioned his own pony had grown thinner…
Without turning her head, Barbara snapped impatiently: “Can’t you see I’m busy? Take it up with your father.”
“But…”
Jin took a deep breath to gather courage: “You promised Dad you’d take me.”
“Enough already.” She kicked a stool over to Charles, suppressing her anger as she growled: “All you do is play, can’t you see how slow you’ve become?”
Charles‘ eyes reddened with fright, yet he fought back tears, refusing to let them fall. Since Mom left, he hadn’t seen Aunt Barbara’s gentle side even once. Her former kindness had vanished like mist. Whenever he tried to go out, Aunt Barbara wore this same displeased look. He couldn’t understand why he’d been so obedient.
“Get out.”
Barbara stood up, selecting outfits for tonight’s gathering from the walk–in closet. Frowning, she snapped: “This isn’t where you belong. Just seeing you irritates me.”
Charles bit his lip hard, not daring to utter a word. He stepped away slowly, glancing back over his shoulder with each retreating step.
He didn’t dare cause trouble again.
Last time he’d disobeyed Barbara, she’d whipped his legs with garden twigs, warning that his father would abandon him for being so unruly.
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Chapter 19
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That evening, Charles stumbled into the villa, drunk again, escorted by friends–his first time crossing its threshold in two months.
Midnight shadows draped the room as Barbara slept. Collapsing onto the bed, he groped in the haze, finding a silhou- ette. “Wife.”
The man’s murmur made Barbara’s eyes instantly light up–he’d finally accepted her.
“You came back.”
Barbara wrapped her arms around Charles, burying her face against his chest as she spoke with tender warmth.
Charles nodded in response to her embrace: “I’ve missed you.”
The air crackled with tension.
The next morning, Charles frowned at the mess in the room: “Clean this up quick—it’d be bad if the kid sees.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry. He won’t come over.”
Barbara wrapped her arms around his waist and slipped under the covers like a lazy cat.
After a satisfying round of sex, Barbara lay skin–to–skin atop him and brought it up casually: “A friend’s taking her child skiing in Switzerland. I want the boy to go too, see the world and make new friends. What d’you think?”
Charles froze. Their son did love skiing–Margaret had even bought him a resort. She’d truly given everything for the father and son.
Barbara didn’t notice his obvious distraction at all, continuing to elaborate her views with enthusiasm.
Charles nodded absently: “Alright, I’ll transfer the money later. Don’t hesitate to buy whatever you need.”
Without Margaret as his unlimited cash cow, his life had gradually tightened. Yet remembering Margaret’s poor health required Barbara’s attentive care, he gritted his teeth and transferred two million to her.
Approaching noon, he finally saw Margaret.
Only she had grown noticeably quieter than before.
Barbara reassured him: “Kids develop private thoughts as they mature–it’s perfectly normal. Haven’t we all been through this phase?”
Charles nodded understandingly, still pulling Victor close to inspect him. He lifted a bowl of Garlic Butter Rib–Eye, offering it to the boy. When Victor remained motionless, Charles frowned: “What? Don’t like it?”
“No, not at all.”
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