Chapter 129: Mother’s History

Grant froze.

Shock flashed across his face. My mother had always been the quiet one. The kind who endured. The kind who never fought back, never raised her voice, never raised her hand.

But this time, she did.

The air turned tight, like something invisible had snapped.

No one expected the silence to be broken by Nicholas.

He stepped forward calmly, his voice low but steady. “It’s cold. The wind is sharp. In your condition, getting upset isn’t good. You should go home and rest.”

Just like that, the truth stood clear.

Grant wanted to own her.

Nicholas wanted to protect her.

The difference was obvious. Painfully so.

I quickly followed his lead. “Yeah, Mom. Let’s go. The weather’s getting worse.”

She nodded slowly, the fire in her eyes fading. Then she looked at Nicholas. Her expression softened.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry. Go home.”

He nodded.

But he didn’t move.

Even when we drove away, I knew he was still standing there. I could feel it. Some bonds don’t need sight to exist.

The snow swallowed the road behind us. I wondered what he was thinking as the storm closed in.

Grant sat stiffly beside us, silent, anger rolling off him in waves. He didn’t explode only because I was there.

When we reached the villa and he tried to follow us inside, my mother stopped him cold.

“I don’t welcome you here,” she said flatly. “Go back to where you belong.”

Grant’s eyes darkened. “Don’t come begging when you regret this.”

Whatever pride he had left wouldn’t let him say more. He turned and left.

I didn’t even look at the mess inside the house.

My mother looked drained, hollowed out. I guided her gently. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow I’ll have Lewis arrange someone reliable to stay with you. You shouldn’t be alone now.”

The word baby drained the color from her face.

She walked slowly to her room, her steps unsteady.

I sat beside her on the bed. “Mom… what do you think about this child?”

Her hand rested on her belly, barely showing. Her eyes were conflicted.

“This child shouldn’t exist,” she whispered.

Yet her fingers didn’t move away.

“I can’t keep it.”

I knelt beside her, resting my hand over hers. “The bond has already begun. There’s a heartbeat now. Can you really let it go?”

I had lived through things that made me believe the world wasn’t just chance and coincidence.

Maybe this child wasn’t either.

“Riley…” she murmured suddenly. “Is that you?”

My chest tightened.

“Did you come back to protect me?”

She had already lost one child. I knew, deep down, she didn’t truly want to end this life.

“Mom,” I asked gently, “do you not want the baby… or do you just not want his child?”

Her emotions finally cracked.

“Back then,” she said quietly, “he thought I trapped him. After we mated , he avoided home every night. We were young. We didn’t understand what commitment really meant.”

Her voice trembled.

“When he learned the truth, he tried to fix things. He said he owed me. But my heart was already gone. I stayed because I had to. Because that was my role.”

She looked away.

“And when he realized I still loved Nicholas… that was when everything truly broke.”

I stayed silent.

Then Monica appeared at the worst possible time.

He got drunk. He crossed a line. And she ended up carrying his child.

But before all of that, Nicholas, Riley, and I had loved each other for three full years. We had planned everything. Graduation. A bond. A life together.

My mother’s voice broke. She covered her face, tears slipping through her fingers.

“I never thought your grandfather would force me into a bond,” she whispered. “In just one month, I was tied to a man I didn’t choose… and already carrying his child. I was barely in my first year of university.”

Her hands trembled.

“Your father told me I had to love him. But hearts don’t obey commands. Even if he wanted me to forget Nicholas, it would have taken time. He couldn’t wait.”

She let out a bitter laugh.

“So he brought another woman into our home.”

Everyone pitied her back then. But she didn’t.

“I was relieved,” she admitted quietly. “With her around, he stopped touching me. I thought one day he’d grow tired of me, and it would finally end.”

But Grant never let go.

“He kept me close while hurting me in other ways. He paid my family every year just to keep me trapped. Do you think I never asked to leave?” Her eyes filled again. “He always threatened my family. Your grandmother was sick. The Wilchers were drowning. I had no way out.”

I finally understood.

Grant didn’t lack feelings. He lacked restraint.

He wanted obedience, not devotion. When he couldn’t claim her heart, he tried to dominate her life instead.

And when my mother disappointed him, he turned his anger on Riley.

In his mind, pain was leverage.

“For years,” my mother continued, “your grandfather blamed me. Said I was useless. Said if I couldn’t give a son, everything would fall into Monica’s hands. And now… he’s trying again.”

My chest ached.

What do men like that see women as? Bargaining chips? Proof of power?

Twenty years ago, he sold his daughter once.

Now, he was ready to do it again.

My mother stopped talking. She cried silently, shoulders shaking.

“I took precautions,” she whispered at last. “So why did this still happen? Riley… can you help me end it? I can’t keep this child.”

Before I could answer, her phone rang.

Unknown number.

I knew who it was.

Her expression softened instantly. “I’m home,” she said gently. “I’m safe. Don’t worry.”

She glanced at me and ended the call quickly. “Riley is with me. I’m fine.”

There were words she didn’t say. Feelings she hid because I was there.

That night, I stayed beside her.

She talked until her voice grew tired about youth, about regret, about choices stolen too early.

And I listened.

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