Chapter 217: The Mother and Son Confrontation

"Kristoff, let’s go to the study so we don’t disturb Baby Alex."

Mary’s voice had changed.

The anger was still there, but beneath it was something sharper—concern.

Kristoff glanced toward the adjoining room where Celia was soothing Alexander before following his parents into the study.

The moment the door closed behind them, Mary turned to him.

For several seconds, she simply studied her son.

"You’ve changed."

Kristoff’s brows drew together.

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

Mary stepped closer, her eyes searching his face as though trying to find the son she had spoken to only days ago.

Henry remained near the doorway, giving his wife the space to handle the confrontation herself. Whenever the matter involved their son, he preferred to let Mary take the lead.

"Before, you kept your distance from that girl," Mary began. "At the hospital, you were the one who cast her aside. You told her to disappear from your life."

She paused.

"You didn’t even want her near you."

Mary glanced at Henry, as if expecting him to add something. But he remained silent. The older man only moved closer to his wife, his expression grave as he quietly made it clear that he stood with her.

Kristoff’s expression remained unreadable.

"That was before."

Mary’s eyes narrowed.

"Before what?"

Kristoff said nothing.

"Before you started seeing her differently?"

His jaw tightened. Mary caught the reaction immediately. She knew her son too well to miss it.

"You told us you wanted nothing to do with her," she continued. "You agreed that she should stay away from you and Alexander. Yet today, you deliberately brought your son to see her."

"Alex had an appointment at the hospital."

"That isn’t what I’m asking."

Mary’s voice sharpened.

"You could have taken him home afterward. Instead, you went looking for her."

Kristoff’s gaze hardened.

"I didn’t go looking for her."

"But you stayed."

A brief silence followed.

Mary took another step toward him.

"And you allowed her to hold your son."

Kristoff didn’t answer.

Mary’s eyes searched his face again.

Then her expression slowly changed.

It wasn’t anger anymore. It was realization.

"Kristoff..."

Her voice was stern.

"Are you starting to care about her?"

Kristoff’s jaw tightened.

"Mom."

"I am your mother. Don’t pretend I don’t know you."

She moved closer.

"I have watched you your entire life. I know when you’re angry. I know when you’re amused. I know when you’re merely being polite."

Her voice softened.

"And I know when a woman has caught your attention."

Kristoff looked away.

That small movement was enough to make Mary’s heart sink.

"So, you really care about her."

It wasn’t a question.

Kristoff remained silent.

Mary shook her head.

"Kristoff, Isobel is not the right woman for you."

Kristoff’s expression remained calm.

"Why not?"

Mary opened her mouth, but he continued before she could answer.

"You said the same thing about Charlotte."

His eyes settled firmly on his mother.

"You told me she wasn’t right for me either. Yet eventually, you accepted her."

Mary’s brows lifted.

"Charlotte had already made a name for herself. She had her own accomplishments, her own reputation, and a family that people respected."

She paused, her meaning unmistakable.

"And let’s not forget—you were the one who insisted on Charlotte."

"You refused every woman we introduced to you."

Mary raised a brow.

"You had already made up your mind. Charlotte was the only woman you wanted."

A faint, almost amused smile touched Kristoff’s lips.

"I can change my mind, can’t I?"

Mary’s gaze sharpened.

"What do you mean by that? Are you telling me you are really falling for her?"

His eyes returned to his mother’s.

"And if I am?"

Mary stared at him.

For a moment, she seemed unable to believe what she was hearing.

"You cannot be serious."

"I am."

"That’s exactly what I’m afraid of." Mary’s voice became louder.

She stepped closer and pointed at finger at her son.

"Because this time, you aren’t simply choosing a woman you think is suitable for you."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You’re choosing someone we have every reason to believe will complicate your life."

Kristoff’s expression hardened.

"And you think Isobel is the problem?" He asked.

"I think you’re not seeing clearly."

Mary’s voice softened, but her conviction remained firm.

"You’re confusing gratitude with affection, Kristoff. And if you aren’t careful, you’ll wake up one day and realize you’ve given a woman a place in your life that she was never meant to have."

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment.

"Mom," he said quietly, "you’re the one who isn’t seeing clearly."

"My goodness, Kristoff." Mary’s expression turned sour.

"She’s an orphan."

Her voice carried the same disdain she had always used whenever Isobel’s name came up.

"She has no family. No connections. No proper standing. She has nothing to offer you."

Kristoff’s expression cooled.

"What if she isn’t an orphan? What if she came from a good family?"

"Besides, she’s exceptionally gifted in programming and artificial intelligence."

Mary’s frustration grew.

"But there are no ’what-ifs.’ If you’re only trying to repay her, write her a check. I can even write one for you and slap it in her face myself."

"No."

His answer came immediately.

"I couldn’t."

Mary sighed in frustration.

"Then what exactly do you intend to do? Spend the rest of your life telling yourself that you owe her?"

Kristoff didn’t respond.

Mary watched him carefully. Then she said the words she had been avoiding.

"This isn’t about owing her anymore, is it?"

The study suddenly felt too quiet.

Kristoff’s gaze dropped briefly toward the adjoining room where his son was being cared for.

Mary followed his eyes.

"And it’s not only Isobel you’re bringing into this."

Her voice lowered.

"You’re letting her get close to Alexander."

Kristoff’s expression hardened.

"Alexander likes her. He behaves differently around her."

"He’s a baby. He doesn’t know any better."

"He knows enough to feel safe with her."

Mary stared at him. She had expected resistance. She hadn’t expected such certainty.

"You don’t know much about this woman."

"I know enough. It’s you who don’t."

Mary sighed. She glanced at Henry, silently seeking his support, but he merely shook his head. He stepped closer to her, his expression making it clear that he was leaving this argument in her hands.

"You only know what she’s shown you," Mary continued.

"And what exactly has she shown me?"

Mary hesitated.

Kristoff stepped closer.

"That her invention brought Alexander back from the brink of death? That she saved me when she could have stood by and let me take that blade? That she never asked me for anything in return?"

His voice remained calm, but every word carried weight.

"Those things aren’t enough for you?"

"You..."