Chapter 4
The silence that followed my accusation was heavier than any shout. I stood there, clutching the small amber bottle like a live grenade. My mother didn’t blink. She looked at me with a mixture of pity and annoyance, as if I were a foolish child who had interrupted a board meeting. It was that specific, chilling expression that had made me walk away from the Mercer estate years ago.
“You really should learn to control your temper, Declan,” she said, her voice smooth and devoid of remorse. “If you are going to play at being a common laborer, you should at least learn the manners of one. Screaming at your mother? It’s beneath you.”
I felt the blood boil. I wanted to shake the cruelty out of her. I looked at Elodie, who was still pressed against me, her hands fluttering against her stomach, searching for the baby. “You were trying to force her to take this,” I said, my voice low. I showed her the label. “You weren’t giving her iron, Adelaide. I know what this is.”
A flicker of irritation crossed her face. “You have no idea what is required to secure the future of this family,” she said, stepping forward. “Elodie is… fragile. She lacks the pedigree to handle the complexities of our bloodline. What I was doing was a necessity. It was an intervention.”
“An intervention?” I stood up, ensuring I towered over her to establish a boundary. “You were trying to induce labor. You were trying to force my son out of her before he was ready.”
“I am securing your future,” she said, her voice rising. “You think you’re happy in this… this shack? You have the Mercer name, Declan. You have the weight of four generations of power behind you. I am trying to correct your trajectory. Sometimes, one must cut out the complications before they become liabilities.”
“She is not a liability!” I roared, the sound hitting the walls. “She is my wife! She is the mother of my child! And if you ever, ever come near her again, if I ever see you in this neighborhood, I won’t just walk away again. I’ll make sure the world knows exactly what kind of monster you are.”
For the first time, she looked unsettled. She took a half-step back, trying to decide if I was bluffing. I didn't flinch.
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“You’ve become just like him,” she spat, a sneer twisting her lips. “So sensitive. So limited by your own empathy. It’s a weakness, Declan. A fatal, tragic weakness.”
“If love is a weakness,” I said, turning cold, “then I’m glad I’m weak. Get out. Now.”
