His Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's in Peace

Chapter 59 Chapter

59

Carlos's house had become strangely quiet. No strangers lingered around anymore, and the servants, who once seemed so distant and aloof, had notably polite toward me and Cyrus.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

grown

They even smiled when they saw us, which felt foreign in this place, where formality often seemed to overshadow warmth. Yet, in their small gestures, I could sense a shift-perhaps because Cyrus's health had improved, or perhaps because our time here was drawing to a close.

Cyrus, whose pallor had once concerned me deeply, was back to his usual, energetic self. His laughter filled the hallways, and with every step he took, I could feel the weight lifting off my shoulders. The nightmare of his illness seemed like a distant memory now. It was time to go home.

I began gathering his things, preparing for our departure. The servants helped me pack, handling each of Cyrus's favorite toys with care, as if understanding the significance of each item. Carlos knew about our plans this time.

There were no secrets between us, no silent moves made behind his back. When dn't stop us. Instead, he had all he learned that we were preparing to leave, he of Cyrus's cherished belongings delivered to our room-every toy, every trinket, meticulously packed and ready to go. It was an unexpected kindness, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude.

Cyrus, always more intuitive than I gave him credit for, approached Carlos before we left. His small hand tugged at Carlos's sleeve as he asked, "Can I still come over to your house to play?" There was a moment of silence, and I watched Carlos closely, waiting to see how he would respond. For the first time in a long while, I saw something different in his eyes-an unfamiliar tenderness. He crouched down to Cyrus's level and with a soft smile, said, "You're always welcome here."

Cyrus beamed, his wide grin filling the room with an infectious joy that softened

the tension I hadn't even realized I was holding. It was in that moment that I realized how much this place, and even Carlos, had meant to my son.

Carlos's words weren't just a casual invitation; they were a promise of continued connection. A bridge, perhaps, between the past we were leaving behind and whatever lay ahead.

Before we left, I had one more thing I needed to do. I wanted to say goodbye to Carlos, to thank him for everything. It wasn't easy for me to admit, but despite the complexities of our relationship, I owed him my gratitude.

He had been there when I felt most powerless, when I feared losing Cyrus to his illness. He had provided us a haven, a place where I could focus entirely on my son's recovery. I couldn't leave without expressing that.

I approached one of the servants and asked if Carlos was available. The servant hesitated for a moment before responding, "Mr. Carlos is in an important online meeting. He doesn't have time right now."

I nodded, not surprised. Of course, Carlos would be busy, always tied up with work or something more pressing than personal goodbyes. Still, I couldn't help but feel a sting of disappointment.

I had wanted to speak to him, to offer a proper farewell. Before turning away, I caught a glimpse of him through the window-focused, working hard as always. His brow furrowed, his eyes glued to the screen, deep in conversation with someone on the other end. There was no space for me in that world, and I understood that now. With a heavy heart, I turned and walked away, grateful for everything, but also feeling a profound sense of despondency.

Returning to my normal life was not as seamless as I had hoped. But I had no choice; Cyrus needed stability, and I had to be strong for him. Every morning, I dropped him off at kindergarten, kissed his forehead, and watched him run off to play with his friends. His excitement and boundless energy were a testament to his recovery, and for

that, I was endlessly thankful. As soon as I left him, though, my thoughts shifted to what lay ahead. Today was the day I had been waiting for-the sentencing of

Sienna.

The courthouse loomed in front of me, its imposing structure as cold and unforgiving as the justice I sought. My heart raced as I stepped inside, knowing that soon the woman who had caused so much pain would finally face the consequences of her actions. Sienna had hurt Cyrus, and there was no part of me that could ever forgive her for that. Today, she would pay for what she had done. I wouldn't rest until she was behind bars where she belonged.

As I entered the courtroom, I saw Nathan sitting in the front row. He looked as if he had aged a decade since the last time I saw him. The lines on his face were deeper, and the weariness in his eyes was undeniable. Our eyes met briefly, and I approached him, feeling the tension rise between us. My voice was steady, but firm as I said, "If you pay for Sienna's bail, we will be enemies."

Nathan sighed, his shoulders slumping as if carrying the weight of the world. He turned to his beta and instructed him to stay before rising to face me. His expression was weary, but there was still something resolute in his demeanor. "Doris," he began softly, "are there any conditions at all that we can negotiate?"

I shook my head firmly, resolute in my decision. "She made Oliver not see his father, and now she's come for my Cyrus. How could I possibly forgive her?"