Chapter 15%
Now, her belated guilt and remorse suffocated her. Her fingers trembled as she typed, sending message after message to her son, pouring out her love for him, confessing the debt she owed him all these years. She begged for another chance, for forgiveness.}
But one after another, her messages only returned with a red exclamation mark.}
Her son had blocked her. Her son had completely given up on them.
Peter sat numbly on the edge of the bed, lighting one cigarette after another, until the acrid scent filled the room and cigarette butts covered the floor. His usually upright posture was gone, replaced by a hunched, defeated frame.}
It was then that Ethan entered from outside. Seeing their broken, empty expressions, a sinister glint flashed in his eyes–but he quickly replaced it with his usual caring smile.
“Dad, Mom, I heard about Owen…“}
He stepped forward, his voice tinged with false concern, measured and gentle.}
“Since he’s already gone, why don’t we cancel the press conference to announce his identity? We don’t need people to gossip about Owen. It would only embarrass him.”}
His words dripped with sugar–coated poison.§
“Just leave the company to me. I’ve bought a private jet–why don’t you two go abroad to relax? Owen was my brother. I’ll handle his funeral arrangements. You don’t need to worry.“}
If this were before, they would have praised Ethan for his thoughtfulness. They would have trusted him without a second thought. But now, they couldn’t bring themselves to say a word.
Peter lifted his gaze slowly, his eyes filled with exhaustion and bitterness.
“No,” he said. His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable. “This is something we owe Owen. His identity–was always meant to be made public.”
Ethan’s fingers twitched slightly. He was unwilling to give up and tried to persuade them further, every word pushing Owen further into the dust.
“Dad, I know you feel bad for Owen, but he’s already gone. He was just a child you brought back from an orphanage. If this gets out, what will people think of the Griffith Family? What will they think of the company?“}
He paused deliberately, watching their reactions before continuing, “Since coming back, Owen has only ever studied with private tutors at home. He doesn’t even have a formal degree. Someone like that–isn’t suitable to be acknowledged as part of the Griffith Family. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure his funeral is grand, but… his identity–it’s better left unspoken.“}
Hearing Ethan’s words, Peter furiously smashed his teacup against the floor. Shards of porcelain flew in every direction and one particularly sharp fragment cut a deep gash on Ethan’s cheek. Blood trickled down his face, but Ethan barely reacted. He only stood there, stunned, as his father rose to his feet, his expression dark with fury.
“Enough!” Peter’s voice was ice–cold, each syllable carrying the weight of his wrath. “Owen is our son! I will handle this myself–I don’t need you meddling. Just focus on running the company.””
Ethan opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, but Peter cut him off with a glare sharper than the broken glass at their feet.
“Besides, his body hasn’t even been found yet! Even if he doesn’t have an impressive academic background, even if he used to be an orphan, he is still our flesh and blood! That is a fact no one can change!“}
