Chapter 126: So Much Like Her

The elderly woman’s frail body suddenly stiffened.

Her cloudy eyes widened as they searched Isobel’s face, lingering on every feature as though she had seen a ghost.

"Y-You..." Her lips trembled uncontrollably. "Who... who are you?"

She took an unsteady step forward.

"Why do you look so much like... her?"

Isobel’s heartbeat quickened. Her father had told her she was the image of her mother.

Could this woman really have known Rosella, her mother?

"Do you know her?" Isobel asked again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you know Rosella Lancey?"

The old woman’s eyes reddened and instantly filled with tears.

Before she could answer, her shoulders began to shake.

"Rosella..." the old woman whispered, as though speaking the name alone reopened a wound that time had failed to heal. "She was the daughter of my younger brother."

A tear slipped down her weathered cheek.

"My poor Rosella...my poor niece..." Her voice broke, thick with grief. "That child endured more suffering than anyone ever should."

She clenched her trembling hands, and for a brief moment, sorrow gave way to bitterness.

"It was all because of that ungrateful scumbag." Her eyes flashed with anger. "She saved his life... nursed him back to health... only for him to leave her with a child in her womb."

Another sob escaped her.

"He disappeared without so much as a goodbye."

"He never came back. He broke not only Rosella’s heart but also her spirit."

The words landed like heavy stones in Isobel’s chest. She lowered her head, her fingers curling into tight fists.

Her mother had spent her final days believing the man she loved had abandoned her.

Beside her, Morgan’s expression stiffened. A knot formed in his throat.

The old woman’s resentment was directed at his father.

He cleared his throat before taking a quiet step forward, his voice gentle and respectful.

"Do you know where she is now?"

The old woman lowered her head. For a long moment, she said nothing.

When she finally spoke, her voice was heavy with grief.

"She’s gone."

The two simple words echoed in Isobel’s ears.

"Rosella died many years ago." The old woman wiped at her tears with trembling fingers. "She had a difficult labor... and never woke up after giving birth."

Silence fell. The world around Isobel seemed to stop.

The chatter of the villagers...

The rustling leaves...

Even the gentle mountain breeze...

Everything faded into nothing. Only those words remained.

She died giving birth to her.

Did she kill her mother?

Although she had prepared herself for this possibility, hearing it spoken aloud shattered something inside her.

A sharp ache spread through her chest until she could barely breathe. She had come hoping—if only for a miracle—that she might meet her mother just once.

To thank her. To embrace her. To tell her she hadn’t grown up hating her for leaving.

Instead...

She had arrived years too late. Her eyes burned, but no tears came.

Even if she did not know her, the grief was real.

The old woman looked at her again, confusion mingling with sorrow.

"Who are you, child?" she asked softly. "Why are you searching for Rosella?"

Isobel swallowed the lump in her throat.

"My name..." Her voice faltered before she forced the words out.

"My name is Isobel."

She took a shaky breath.

"Isobel Lancey."

The old woman’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"N-No..."

Her lips quivered.

"You... you’re the baby?"

"The daughter Rosella died trying to bring into this world?"

Without waiting for an answer, the old woman stumbled toward her.

With trembling, weathered hands, she gently cradled Isobel’s face, studying every inch of it through tear-filled eyes.

"Oh, my child..."

A broken sob escaped her.

"No wonder..."

"You look like her, except for the eyes."

Her thumb brushed across Isobel’s cheek as if afraid she would disappear.

"You have Rosella’s smile... her face..."

Fresh tears streamed down the old woman’s cheeks.

"I should have known."

Then, unable to contain herself any longer, she pulled Isobel into a tight embrace.

"Oh, Rosella..." she wept. "Your daughter came home... but you aren’t here to see her."

Those words finally broke Isobel’s fragile composure.

She wrapped her arms around the old woman and burst into tears, crying not only for the mother she had never known...

...but for the woman who had given her life at the cost of her own.

...

Grandma Emelia led Isobel and Morgan to her modest wooden house.

The driver and the two bodyguards remained outside, standing watch as curious villagers lingered nearby, whispering among themselves.

The house was simple, yet immaculately clean.

Sunlight filtered through the bamboo walls, casting delicate patterns across the worn bamboo floor. A faint scent of dried herbs and freshly brewed tea lingered in the air.

Four bamboo chairs surrounded a small wooden table polished smooth by years of use.

"Please, sit."

Isobel and Morgan quietly took their seats while Grandma Emelia lowered herself onto the chair opposite them.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

The silence was heavy, burdened by memories neither side knew how to begin unraveling.

Finally, Emelia broke it.

"You have an uncle," she said softly. "His name is Leon."

"He married a year after your mother’s death. His wife’s family lived in another town, so he settled there and never returned to Greenvale."

Isobel nodded slowly before gathering the courage to ask the question that had haunted her since childhood.

"Then... Aunt Emelia—"

The old woman gently shook her head.

"No."

A tender smile, tinged with sadness, appeared on her wrinkled face.

"You should call me Grandma."

Isobel’s lips parted. The single word caught her completely off guard.

Grandma.

It was such a simple title. One she had never had the chance to say.

Her eyes grew warm.

"...Grandma."

The old woman’s eyes immediately reddened.

She reached across the table and squeezed Isobel’s hand.

"That’s better."

After composing herself, Isobel asked in a trembling voice,

"Grandma... why was I sent to an orphanage?"

The question erased the faint smile from Emelia’s face.