Chapter 188.

Christian stared at her.

She walked toward the tree. Her fingers brushed the rough bark. "My father sold me."

Christian’s brows drew together.

She glanced at him. "Your grandfather sold me."

The words didn’t make sense.

Christian shook his head. "My only grandfather was my dad’s father. I do not know your family."

"That’s because my father sold me to the Sinclair family."

Christian stared. His eyes softened a bit.

"When I was sixteen."

The garden suddenly felt colder.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came.

His mother continued. "I was sixteen years old." She chuckled softly. "There was nothing romantic about it."

Christian’s face had gone blank.

"You think your grandfather built this family with honor."

Christian’s throat tightened.

"He took me from my home." She looked at the orange tree again. "My father had debts."

Christian swallowed.

"He owed money." She paused briefly. "The Sinclair family paid them."

Christian’s face changed. "Grandfather?"

"Yes."

"He wouldn’t."

"He did."

"You’re lying."

Her eyes sharpened. "I have spent my entire life being accused of many things." She stepped closer furiously. "But lying about this is not one of them."

His mother continued. "I was sixteen when I entered this family." She looked toward the manor. "I thought I was being taken into a wealthy household."

Her mouth twisted. "I was being taken into a breeding arrangement."

Christian went completely still.

His mother’s voice remained disturbingly calm. "I was conditioned to give birth."

He couldn’t speak.

"At sixteen, I had my girlhood taken from me." She looked at him. "I had a girl first."

Christian’s face fell.

"She was born premature." His mother swallowed. "She died."

The garden went silent.

Christian stared at her.

His mother’s eyes remained dry. Perhaps she had cried all the tears she possessed years ago.

"Then the following year, I had a miscarriage."

Christian’s lips parted.

"I lost six children before finally having you."

His chest tightened.

Six? The number seemed impossible.

His mother looked away. "So cut me some slack if all I’m asking of you is to get married to someone I want you to. Your father has brothers. I won’t let my years of suffering go to waste because of you. Soon, your Uncles would come for you, with your grandfather gone."

Christian stared at her. He couldn’t understand how they had reached that sentence.

How something so monstrous had somehow ended with marriage.

"You can’t say that."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because that doesn’t make it okay."

"I never said it did."

"You’re using it to justify what you’re doing to me."

"I am telling you where I came from."

"And I’m telling you where you went."

Her expression hardened. "You think you know what it is to lose something?"

"You should have let me see my last surviving family."

"He wasn’t yours."

The words hit him like a slap.

Christian froze.

His mother continued. "He belonged to this family long before he belonged to you."

Christian shook his head. "You don’t get to erase him from my life because he hurt you."

"I didn’t erase him."

"You’re destroying him."

"I am telling you the truth."

"You’re telling me your version of it."

She stared at him. Her eyes turned murderous. "Your grandfather was not a saint."

His jaw clenched. He wanted to reject everything she was saying. He wanted to call her bitter. Wanted to tell her she was manipulating him.

But there was something in her voice that made it impossible.

She wasn’t performing.

She wasn’t asking him to pity her. She was simply opening a door that had been locked his entire life.

And he hated what was standing behind it.

His mother stepped closer. "Your heroic grandfather wasn’t so shining."

Christian looked at her.

"He was deeply flawed." She paused. "And you were his golden flaw."

Her eyes settled on him. "You were his golden boy because you were a Sinclair heir."

His stomach turned.

"The last surviving one from his favorite son."

Christian shook his head. He glared at her.

"You weren’t simply the grandson he loved." She stepped closer. "You were the grandson he needed."

Christian’s breathing stopped for a second.

"The family line was nearly gone. Your uncles just wanted to party. There was no heir." His mother smiled bitterly. "Do you think all those doctors, all those nurses, all those years of trying to keep me pregnant were about love?"

Christian couldn’t answer.

"They wanted an heir." Her voice cracked slightly. "I finally gave them one. People can love you and still hurt you."

Christian’s breath caught.

She looked toward the house. "Your grandfather loved you." She paused. "But he was also a man who believed the family came first."

Her expression hardened. "You don’t love that girl."

Every trace of pity in Christain immediately disappeared. His face hardened. "You don’t know that."

"I know you."

"You know the version of me you raised."

She stared at him.

"You don’t know who I became."

His mother looked toward the orange tree.

His eyes sharpened. "And Kylie?"

She said nothing.

"What you did to her was unforgivable."

Her lips pressed together. "I warned her."

Christian’s voice lowered. "She was already scared."

His mother glanced at him. She bliked at him. "She was scared of me?"

"No." He eyed her. "She was scared of getting involved with me. And you made that fear worse."

"What happened to you at sixteen was terrible," he said quietly. "I can’t imagine what you went through."

His mother stared at him.

"But you can do better than remaining in those chains."

Her expression tightened.

"You survived what they did to you. You don’t have to keep living as if you’re still that sixteen-year-old girl who has no choice."

His mother looked away.

Christian voice softened. "I’ll be with Kylie if she accepts me."

Her eyes snapped back to him.

"And if she doesn’t, I still won’t marry Isabel just to save the family name."

His mother’s jaw tightened.

"I won’t spend my life making someone else miserable because you were once forced to live that same life, Mum."

His mother flinched. Not because of his words, but because he hadn’t called her Mum in the longest time.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

For one brief second, the woman standing in front of him didn’t look like the terrifying woman who had controlled every room she entered.

She looked like his mother.

Her expression softened. Every trace of tightness disappeared.

"Christain..."

"I need to leave." He took a deep breath. "Whenever you are ready to make this right between us, I’ll be here."

His mother said nothing. She simply lifted her chin, and took in controlled breaths.

Christain nodded at her. He turned, and walked away. He got into his car, and immediately drove off.