Chapter 4

My eyes reddened as a wave of humiliation and hatred crashed over me. Mustering all the strength that I had, I tried to shove Harold away. However, he suddenly grabbed my hand and used my fist to punch his own face.

He shot a troubled look at me after he collapsed to the floor, saying, "I'm really upset about Ash's death too, Gabe. But I didn't offend you in any way. Why are you treating me this way?"

A powerful force crashed into my back and knocked me off my feet before I could figure out what was going on. My forehead collided against the coffee table, causing fresh blood to spurt from the wound in an instant.

Sophia acted as if she didn't notice my injury and anxiously helped Harold back to his feet. "Are you okay, Harold? Are you hurt?"

Tears streamed down Harold's face as he shook his head. "My head hurts a lot, Sophia."

Sophia frowned. She shot a fierce look at me and snapped, "I know that you're upset that your child died, Gabriel, but why are you causing a commotion here? Apologize to Harold right now!"

My chest burned with fury and loathing. I couldn't stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks when I shouted, "Get your facts straight, Sophia! My child is also your son! He called you his mother for the last four years!"

Sophia's expression stiffened before her gaze strayed to the bracelet around her wrist. For a split second, it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Her arm trembled violently, and she didn't dare meet my eyes again.

She pathetically turned her back on me. She felt as if her heart was being crushed by a giant hand, making it difficult for her to breathe. She only snapped back to her senses when she heard Harold groaning in pain, behaving as if he was clinging onto a lifeline.

Sophia supported him, saying, "I'll send you to the hospital, Harold."

She moved quickly as she led him away, but when she walked past me, her feet suddenly felt like they were weighed down by lead.

Eventually, I was the only one left in the spacious living room.

I had made an audio recording of our earlier encounter on my phone. The private investigator had also sent me the evidence that he had gathered.

In one of the videos, Ashton reached out his small hand to Sophia as he lay in a pool of blood.

"Save me, Mommy. I'm in so much pain. Mommy…"

However, Sophia simply stared at his hand with an icy expression, watching as it slowly fell to the ground.

I stared at Ashton's face in the video. The hope in his eyes gradually morphed to confusion before finally settling on despair. It turned out that he had found out the truth that Sophia didn't love him during his final moments.

I wondered what ran through his mind at that moment. Did he wonder if he had done something wrong? Or was he confused about why his own mother was treating him that way? Or perhaps, he was silently telling me to escape.

My body trembled violently from the pain, hatred, and other turbulent emotions that raged within me. A few moments later, I heard the sounds of footsteps behind me.

A boy who looked no older than six years old stood at the door. His face was pale as he clutched his plane model to his chest.

"Who are you, mister?" he asked. "Why are you in my house?"

Micah's face and the sound of his heartbeat were incredibly familiar. I stared at his chest, knowing that Ashton's heart was beating within him under his clothes.

Ashton wouldn't have died if it weren't for him.

My gaze turned cold. I slowly crouched down as Micah stared at me in confusion.

"My dear Micah, why don't you come home with me? I bought some candy for you."

…

Sophia frowned during the entire car ride to the hospital. She couldn't stop thinking about my teary face as I questioned her. It was as if a rock was dropped on her heart every time she thought about me. The heavy sensation made her feel uneasy.

Just then, her phone rang, shattering the eerie silence.

My voice was completely devoid of emotion on the other end of the line. I calmly said, "I have Micah with me, Sophia."

The car screeched to a stop at the side of the road. Sophia gripped the steering wheel tightly as a terrifying thought took root and sprouted in her mind.

Could it be that I already knew the truth?