Father's Eyes Mother's Rage Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

She even took a knife and slashed at my skin, leaving trails of blood. That bloody scene shocked my dad. The man who had always been absent suddenly exploded. He raised his hand and slapped my mom hard across the face. "You crazy woman! How could you treat my child like this? Do you have any humanity left? That's our son... Your own flesh and blood!" My mom's head snapped to the side from the blow. However, this time, she did not fight back. She did not argue. She just stared blankly ahead. "This…isn't my fault…"

his father called in a voice loud enough to bring him back his control that was starting to slip away. Like he did with his grandfather, he turned to look at his father and meet his eyes. And there he saw in Matthew's eyes the same anger and rage that he knew was also very visible in his eyes. But aside from the anger and rage in Matthew's eyes, there was also a silent message in them, telling Maverick not to do anything reckless again.

She's just a worker trying to make a living. The cashier smirked triumphantly. "Exactly. I guess your face really is a window to your soul. Your mother is much more reasonable than you." A few people in the crowd chimed in. "Yeah, no need to waste police resources. The mother has the right idea." "How can a mother and daughter be so different? Typical capitalist. No empathy for the working class." Anger flared in my chest at Mom's words. How was I the one making things difficult? I hadn't stolen a thing.

He gave me a million-and-one reasons why he couldnt make it which is pretty fucking pitiful if you ask me, having an offspring just to abandon them is beyond me. Elena’s sage green eyes stare back at her father so much hatred and rage in them it excites me. For once I’m not the cause for it which feels pretty damn good, a feeling I won't look into. Casper is spewing some bullshit as usual but I can't bring myself to care when those sage greens swing my way and her eyes narrow even slighter, my heart skips a beat when I see tears start to fill them. Fuck, dont cry baby get angry. She squeezes her eyes shut seemingly to will the tears away. When she opens them again her eyes are shining with

Then she leaned in, her lips curving into a smug smile as she whispered in my ear: “Katherine, just look at my mother and Alpha—they’re perfect for each other. The only one worthy of Alpha is my mom, not you. If only Lena were dead, then Alpha could finally be my dad.”

My eyes lifted. Dad stood at the entrance. Massive. Furious. Commanding. His gaze locked onto me first. Then— It dropped to my mark. And I watched it happen. Watched his expression shift from confusion… To recognition. To rage. Pure, catastrophic rage. The air in the hall changed. Warriors straightened. No one dared breathe. His jaw flexed once. Twice. And when my father’s eyes darkened like that— Hell didn’t knock. It kicked the door down.

He paused suddenly, and I felt his breathing change. "Until... She died?" I asked hesitantly, lifting my head to meet his eyes. His shoulders went rigid. His chest tightened beneath my palm. And when I lifted my gaze to his face, his eyes were no longer warm—they were burning with rage. What is it about his mother that always does this to him?

I just cling to her, breathing in her lavender soap scent, it was something gentle, something safe, something that feels like softness after months of walking barefoot on glass. Footsteps thump sharply behind us. A voice follows. A loud, angry, booming voice. “What the hell is this?” I flinch out of instinct. My mother stiffens, her arms tightening around me as if to shield me. My father rolls forward in his wheelchair, face hard, eyes sharp and furious. He looks a bit thinner than before, paler, his legs covered with a blanket. But the rage in his eyes is the same thick, burning, poisonous. “What have you done now?” he demands.

She sniffed dramatically, as though she were the one wronged. "I'm a single mother! It's not easy raising a child alone!" In the gallery, a few older spectators began whispering sympathetically again. The judge frowned deeply, clearly dissatisfied with her explanation. I exchanged a glance with Larry, and he understood immediately. He switched on the projector. On the large screen in the center of the courtroom, a video began to play.

I could sense the unease creeping into the room, a palpable tension that threaded its way through the air, coiling around us like a serpent poised to strike. “Bastard!!” my mother yelled angrily her reaction shattering the fragile peace, her fury unleashed in a torrent of chaos and destruction. The sight of her hurling objects with unrestrained violence left me reeling, aghast at the unfamiliar ferocity that blazed in her eyes. I had witnessed my mother's temper before, but this unrestrained outburst was a revelation, a side of her I had never seen, a tempest of emotions unleashed in a whirlwind of fury.