Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The walk to the pediatric ward felt like she was walking slowly to hell, each step felt heavy like lead but she forced herself, to move forward.

Iniko would be expecting good news. He would be waiting for her with that quiet, smile, that made her heart hurt with love and guilt equally.

The general ward was exactly as she had left it—crowded, noisy, and completely inadequate for a child as sick as her son. She had begged Thomas repeatedly for a private room, but he had refused, claiming she was spoiling the boy and that other children managed just fine in the general ward.

The other parents looked up as she entered, and she caught fragments of their whispered conversations.

"...terrible mother, putting her child in here instead of private care..."

"...heard she's too cheap to pay for proper treatment..."

"...poor little boy, no wonder he's so sickly with a mother like that..."

Their words felt like daggers, but Ambelyn forced herself to ignore them. She knew the truth, that her husband controlled all the finances, and never gave her upkeep. But explaining would only give them more ammunition for their gossip.

Iniko sat by the window in his narrow hospital bed, his small frame seemed smaller than usual by the medical equipment surrounding him.

At five years old, he looked younger—too thin, too pale, with dark circles under eyes that held far too much understanding for his age. His IV stand stood beside him like a constant part of him.

Other children in the ward were playing games, running around, yelling but not Iniko.  Iniko sat quietly, watching the world outside the window with the patience of a saint, who was about to be martyred.

When he saw her, his face lit up with genuine joy—the first real happiness she had seen all day.

"Mama," he said softly. "Did you talk to Papa? Can I have my surgery now?"

The question nearly broke her. She sat on the edge of his bed, smoothing his dark hair back from his forehead. 

"Mama?" Iniko prompted when she didn't answer immediately. "The doctor said if I get the new heart, I can play soccer like Lucas. Is that true?"

How could she tell him? How could she explain that his father—the man who should have protected him above all else, had abandoned him for his illegitimate son.

"We'll see, sweetheart," she managed, her voice thick with unshed tears. "We'll see."

An Hour Later

The silence of Iniko's hospital room felt deafening after Ambelyn ended the call with her lawyer. Her hands trembled as she set down her phone, before smoothening her skirt, trying to give herself something to focus on.

"Mrs. Patterson was surprised," she murmured to herself, replaying the conversation that she just had.

The family lawyer had known the Blackwoods for decades, had handled their legal affairs since before Ambelyn was born, when she had asked her to draft up a divorce agreement for her and her husband, her shock alone was enough as she double asked, to make sure.

"Are you certain about this, dear?" Mrs. Patterson had asked her.

"Marriage is a sacred institution, and the Blackwood family... well, they're not known for their forgiveness."

But Ambelyn was past caring about anything concerning the Blackwood family, not after their cruelty finally extended to her son Iniko.

Her phone rang again, jarring her from her thoughts. The caller ID made her stomach twist with knots as she looked at one of her familiar tormentors:  Eleanor Blackwood. Her mother-in-law.

"Hello, Eleanor," she answered, injecting false warmth into her voice.

"Ambelyn, darling. I trust you're well? And little Iniko?"

The concern was fake and fooled no one. For years she had made her stance clear. Eleanor saw Iniko as a disappointment, a weak link in the family chain, unworthy of the Blackwood name.

"We're managing," Ambelyn replied carefully.

"I'm calling because the family is gathering for dinner tonight," Eleanor continued without acknowledging her response.

 "Nothing formal, you understand. Just an intimate family meal. Seven o'clock sharp. Don't be late."

It wasn't a request. Eleanor Blackwood didn't make requests.

"Of course," Ambelyn found herself saying, the words automatic after years of conditioning. "Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself, dear. We have much to discuss."

The line went dead, leaving Ambelyn staring at her phone with growing unease. Whatever this family inner was about, Amberlyn was dead certain that she would be collecting a lot of backhanded insults.

She turned back to Iniko, who had been listening to her half of the conversation quietly.

"Was that Grandma Eleanor?" he asked softly.

"Yes, sweetheart. She's invited us to dinner tonight."

"I made something for her," he said suddenly, reaching toward the small bedside table where his few personal belongings were kept, he pulled out a small bracelet made of colorful beads strung on elastic cord. 

"I made it in art therapy," he explained, holding it out to her with shy pride. "The blue beads are for the sky, and the green ones are for the grass. The therapist said I should make something that would make someone happy."

Ambelyn took the bracelet, her vision blurring with unshed tears, looking at the uneven knots, probably caused by pain from his medication, but he still preserved. It was perfect.

"It's beautiful, baby," she whispered, closing her fingers around the fragile gift. "Grandma Eleanor will love it."

The lie came easily, though they both knew it wasn't true. Eleanor Blackwood had never shown interest in handmade gifts from her grandson, but hope was sometimes all they had.

"Will you tell her I made it specially for her?" Iniko asked, his green eyes filled with anticipation.

"Of course I will," she promised, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "I'll make sure she knows how much thought you put into it."

She stayed with him for another hour, reading from his favorite book and helping him with the puzzle the nurses had brought. When visiting hours ended, she kissed him goodbye and promised to return first thing in the morning with news about the dinner.

The drive to the Blackwood estate took her two hours to get there. Ambelyn noticed Thomas's Mercedes was already there, along with a smaller car she didn't recognize.

She soon  realized what this meant—Veronica and Lucas were already here, already settled in like they belonged.

The front door opened before she could knock, revealing Henderson, the elderly butler who had served the family for over thirty years. His expression was carefully polite, although she could catch the look of sympathy in his eyes.

"Good evening, Mrs. Blackwood," he said formally. "The family is gathered in the dining room."

She followed him through the foyer, walking past oil paintings of stern-faced Blackwood ancestors who seemed to judge her with their painted eyes.

The scene that greeted her was exactly what she had expected and dreaded. Thomas sat at the head of the table, looking relaxed and Veronica was beside him in what should have been Ambelyn's seat.

Lucas sat across from his mother, already in his pajamas and looking remarkably healthy for a child who had supposedly needed emergency heart surgery.

Eleanor who was seated at the foot of the table, presiding over dinner looked up as Ambelyn entered, her blue eyes scanning her and wrinkling her nose in disgust at her appearance as always.

"Ambelyn, dear," she said with false warmth. "How lovely that you could join us. Please, sit."

The only empty chair was at the far end of the table, as far from Thomas as possible—a deliberate slight that everyone present would understand. 

Ambelyn took her seat without comment, placing her purse carefully beside her chair. The divorce papers rustled softly inside, their presence giving her strength.

"We were just discussing the wonderful news about Lucas's surgery," Eleanor continued speaking "Such a blessing that he's recovered so quickly. The doctors say he'll be back to full activities within weeks."

How fortunate," Ambelyn managed, her voice steady despite the rage building in her chest.

"Indeed," Veronica purred, reaching over to squeeze Thomas's hand in a gesture of intimate possession.

 "We're so grateful that Thomas was able to arrange everything so quickly. It's amazing what can be accomplished when you have the right connections."

The implication hung heavy in the air. Everyone at the table knew that Lucas had received the heart meant for Iniko. Everyone knew it had been orchestrated deliberately. And everyone seemed to find it amusing.

"Speaking of arrangements," Eleanor said, cutting delicately into her prime rib, "we've made some decisions about the family structure moving forward."

Ambelyn's grip tightened on her fork. "What kind of decisions?"

"Well, given Iniko's... condition... we feel it would be inappropriate for him to continue bearing the burden of being the heir apparent," Eleanor explained with the casual cruelty that was her trademark. "The boy is clearly not suited for the responsibilities that come with the Blackwood name."

The words hit like physical blows, but Ambelyn forced herself to remain seated, to keep her expression neutral. Around the table, she could see the satisfaction on their faces—Thomas's approval, Veronica's triumphant smile, even four-year-old Lucas's smug satisfaction.

"What are you saying?" she asked quietly.

"We're saying that Lucas will be recognized as Thomas's primary heir," Eleanor continued. "He's strong, healthy, intelligent—everything the family needs in its next generation. Iniko, poor child, simply doesn't have the constitution for such demands."

"He's five years old," Ambelyn said, her voice rising despite trying to keep calm and poised.

"He's sick, not weak. There's a difference."

"Is there?" Thomas spoke for the first time since she'd arrived, his voice carrying the dismissive tone she knew so well.

"The boy can barely manage a flight of stairs without getting winded. He spends more time in hospitals than in school. What kind of leader does that make?"

"The kind who understands suffering," she shot back. "The kind who might actually care about people less fortunate than himself."

Veronica laughed,her laugh mocking Amberlyn, filled with pity and contempt.

"How noble. Unfortunately, nobility doesn't run a billion-dollar corporation."

"I think Mama Ambelyn should step aside," Lucas spoke suddenly.

 "Mama Veronica should be Daddy's real wife now. Everyone knows she's better at everything."

Ambelyn reached into her purse pulling out the divorce papers. She placed it on the table with a soft thud that somehow managed to stop all ongoing  conversation.

"Since you've all made your feelings so clear," she said, her voice steady as ever, "perhaps it's time to make this official."

Thomas stared at the folder as if it might contain a snake. "What is that?"

"Divorce papers." She opened the folder and slid the documents toward him. "Already signed by me. They just need your signature to make it final."