Chapter 2 The Last Thing My Dad Left Me

I stared at the woman I'd always known as my mother. For the first time in my life, she seemed like a complete stranger.

The urn in my arms suddenly felt unbearably heavy. It held everything Dad had left behind in this world.

"What if he never comes out?" I asked quietly.

Celia didn't even bother to look up. "Don't start pulling the same pathetic stunts as your father."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a gold-embossed envelope.

"Since your father refuses to admit he was wrong, I've decided to give your recommendation letter to St. Edmund's Academy of Fine Arts to Noah instead. Noah has had a difficult childhood, and he needs this opportunity to build a future for himself."

She glanced at me and continued, "You're my son, Lucas. You'll always have the Gibson family fortune to fall back on even if you don't have this letter."

Arthur bit his lip, pretending to object. "Celia, that's too much. Liam worked so hard to get that letter for Lucas. Noah doesn't deserve something that valuable."

Celia dismissed his concerns without hesitation. "Liam is my husband. Everything he has came from me anyway. Just take the letter and let Noah use it."

I stared at the envelope, digging my nails into my palms until they hurt.

Dad had spent countless nights working on his paintings. He didn't stop even when he was barely strong enough to stand. He'd contacted his former professor overseas and practically begged him to help me secure that opportunity.

And now, Celia had given it away to her first love's son with just a few careless words.

Normally, I would've screamed at her. I would've argued until I cried, desperate to make her understand how unfair she was being.

However, this time, I simply nodded. "Fine."

Celia froze, clearly caught off guard by how easily I'd caved.

She frowned, and a flicker of unease crossed her face. "Lucas, I'm not playing favorites. Your father already has his place as my husband. Arthur saved my life, and Noah grew up without a mother. It's only right that I do a little more for them."

I closed my eyes, trying to hide the bitterness I felt. "So, you just stood by and let my father die."

Celia's expression darkened instantly.

She snapped, "Lucas, don't you dare speak to me like that again! When your father finally comes out of that room, I'm going to ask him exactly what he's been teaching you!"

I let out a cold, humorless laugh. "I already told you. Dad's not coming out."

Celia stared at me for a long moment before turning to the butler. "Get the south-facing room on the second floor ready. Arthur and Noah will be staying there."

My stomach dropped.

That was Dad's favorite room.

When Celia built the mansion, she designed that sunroom especially for him. It was supposed to be a bright, peaceful space where he could spend his days painting.

Whenever she stayed away for too long, he'd paint another portrait of her and hang it on the wall. But over the years, she'd been so busy caring for Arthur and Noah that she'd never bothered to step inside and look at them.

The butler hesitated. "Ms. Gibson, Mr. Olson uses that room to store his paintings and artwork..."

"Then, throw it all out," Celia snapped impatiently. "If he can't learn to be more understanding, he needs to face the consequences."

A faint smile touched Arthur's lips, but he quickly lowered his head to hide it. Then, he shook his head, his eyes still red. "Celia, please don't do that. Noah and I can stay in the staff quarters downstairs. We're used to living with very little, so we'll be fine."

Celia's expression hardened. "Arthur, you're much too kind for your own good. That's why Liam thinks he can keep pushing you around."

She turned to me, her gaze icy. "Tell your father that Arthur and Noah are moving in today. Once he's ready to admit he was wrong, he can come downstairs and apologize to them himself."

At that moment, whatever sliver of warmth I still felt toward Celia disappeared.

…

I ignored all three of them and headed upstairs without looking back.

Once I was in my room, I pulled a large suitcase from under the bed and carefully placed my dad's urn inside. Then, I reached under my pillow and took out another recommendation letter.

Before he met Celia, Dad had been one of the most talented students at his art school. His professor had begged him countless times to stay and pursue a career as an artist. Unfortunately, Dad had foolishly given it all up to start a family with her.

I stared at the letter as tears filled my eyes.

Somehow, Dad must have known this day would come. That was why he'd made a backup plan for me.

It would take another three days to finalize the paperwork I needed to leave the country.

I pressed the letter against my chest and closed my eyes.

"Dad, just three more days," I whispered. "Just wait for another three more days, and I'll take you far, far away from here."