Chapter 4

Inside the darkness of the sack, Sheila felt as though she had been struck by lightning. Her eyes widened as Max brought the wooden club down on her again and again.

She bit down hard on her lip, forcing herself not to cry out. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face.

So… the son she had loved with all her heart had known the truth all along.

His obedience, his sweetness, every bit of it had been an act.

He was only five years old. She had cherished him like he was the most precious treasure in the world.

Whenever he had a fever, she stayed awake the entire night, holding him in her arms and softly comforting him.

She had held his tiny hand as he learned to walk. She had taught him his first words.

Yet...

That little boy now hated her so much that he swung a wooden club with all his strength and beat her without mercy.

The world around her dissolved into a deafening roar. She could not hear anything anymore.

Darkness swallowed her once again.

When Sheila woke up, she was back at the Stewart residence. Joshua and Max were both gathered around her bed.

The moment she opened her eyes, their expressions were filled with worry and guilt.

"Sheila, you're awake. This is all my fault. I never should have left you alone with Max. That's why those kidnappers were able to take you.

"Don't worry, they've already been caught. I'll make sure every one of them goes to prison. They'll pay a hundred times over for what they did to you."

Max's eyes were red from crying. Holding a glass of warm water and her medicine with both hands, he carefully offered them to her.

"Mom, take your medicine. You'll feel better really soon.

"When I grow up, I'll protect you. I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

Sheila looked at the father and son. Together, they had put on a flawless performance.

The memory of the fists, the kicks, and the club striking her again and again flashed through her mind, yet her face remained completely expressionless. Only endless sorrow and despair filled her heart.

She said nothing.

Ever since Joshua had crippled her legs, and ever since she had learned the truth behind every lie, she no longer wanted to say a single word.

She only hoped the paperwork would be finished as soon as possible so that she could return to her parents, receive proper treatment for her legs, and leave this nightmare behind forever.

Joshua noticed nothing unusual. He simply assumed she was depressed because she could no longer walk. As such, he tried even harder to cheer her up.

During the day, Sheila could still force herself to play along. However, every night, the nightmares returned. She dreamed of the baby she had carried for ten long months, dreamed of the terrible bleeding as she fought to give birth, dreamed that before she even had the chance to hold her child… Joshua had wrapped his own hands around the baby's tiny neck and killed him.

For years, she had woken from the same nightmare with tears covering her face.

She had dreamed about that child countless times, yet in every dream, his little face remained blurred.

Of course it did. She had never seen him. How could she possibly know what he looked like?

She did not even know where Joshua had buried him.

Wanting to do at least one thing for her son, Sheila went to a church.

At the memorial candle stand, she lit a prayer candle and silently prayed that his soul would finally find peace.

Afterward, she wheeled to the altar. She clasped her hands together, lowered her head, and prayed in silence.

Just then, a familiar voice drifted in from the entrance.

Joshua.

Sheila's heart skipped a beat. When she looked up, she saw him carrying a small urn, with Cecilia and Max at his side.

The moment they entered the church, Cecilia spoke softly. "Joshua, are you really going to scatter the ashes of Sheila's baby just because I've been dreaming about him these past few days?

"He was your own son. Back then... you only..." She lowered her eyes guiltily. "It all happened because of me. If he hates me, I suppose he has every right to."

Max gently tugged on her sleeve, looking at her with complete affection. "Mom, you're too kind. He's already dead, yet he still keeps haunting your dreams. Dad's only doing this to protect you."

Joshua gave a quiet hum in agreement and gently stroked Cecilia's cheek. "Be good. As long as it helps you feel at peace, nothing else matters."

Then, without a trace of emotion, he opened the urn.

The way he looked at it, no one would have guessed it held the ashes of his own flesh and blood.

The next very second, he lifted the urn.

Without the slightest hesitation, he poured every last bit of his son's ashes into the rainwater drain outside the church.