Chapter 185: Chapter 185



Three years had slipped by. The once vibrant flowers in the garden of the Miller Mansion had long since withered, left to languish in neglect. But today marked Adrian’s return to the mansion, and Amara deemed the withered flowers ominous. Early that morning, she’d arranged for a fresh array of blooms to be planted, determined to breathe new life into the place. Yet, despite their brilliant colors, the flowers still seemed to lack vitality.

“Mrs. Miller, perhaps it’s the dreary weather. The sun hasn’t shone lately,” said the butler.

Amara let out a weary sigh. “Never mind. It seems no one would appreciate their beauty, no matter how radiant they are.”

She turned on her heel and retreated back into the house. The breeze whispered through the leaves, the only sound in the otherwise silent yard.

Three years earlier, Quincy had failed in his attempt to eliminate Adrian and was thrown into prison by the latter. Lyla, after losing both her son and her husband, returned to her parents’ home with Katie, her heart weighed down by grief. And so, Irene and Amara were left alone in the vast Miller Mansion.

Amara found solace in their misfortune. As long as Quincy’s family was steeped in misery, she cared little for the emptiness that now filled the halls of her home. But from that time onward, Irene’s health began to decline. The older generation often said that having many children was a blessing. Irene had borne two sons, believing her later years would be filled with the laughter of grandchildren. But instead, she and Amara found themselves alone in the grand, echoing house. Whenever this thought struck her, Irene could do nothing but lie in bed, her tears flowing in silence.

The hum of an approaching car broke the stillness outside, followed by Amara’s joyous exclamation. “Adrian, you’re back!”

Adrian strode in, his tall frame casting a long shadow. He had grown thinner, and there was a cool detachment in his demeanor. Amara, eager to engage him, chattered on as they walked. “Adrian, how did it go with the woman I introduced to you last time? Did you two hit it off?”

“Not too bad,” Adrian replied, his tone indifferent. “Where’s Grandma?”

“She’s resting in her room. There’s no need to rush. Why, don’t you tell me which one of the women I introduced to you caught your eye?”

“Mom!” Adrian cut her off. “I’ll check on Grandma first.” It was time for Irene’s medication, and as the servant prepared to bring it in, Adrian intervened. “I’ll take it to her.”

Entering Irene’s room, he was met with the pungent aroma of herbal remedies, more potent than he remembered. The strength of the scent was a clear indication that Irene’s condition had worsened, requiring these rare and potent herbs just to sustain her fragile life.

Irene lay in the bed, her once vibrant presence now reduced to a frail figure. Her aged face was etched with deep wrinkles, a map of the years that had passed. Just last month, Amara had called him, her voice tinged with concern, asking if he had made preparations for Irene’s funeral in advance.

“Grandma, it’s time for your medicine.”

Irene sighed deeply, her breaths labored and heavy. Her wide, vacant eyes were fixed on the ceiling, with her bony fingers clenching the bed sheets tightly. “Quincy… Quincy!”

Adrian, his expression unreadable, sat at the edge of the bed, stirring the medicine. “Grandma, like I’ve said before, as long as Uncle Quincy doesn’t get a penny, I can arrange for his release. He’s served three years for that assault charge. If he hadn’t been involved in all those fights, he’d be out by now.” They both understood the game they were playing.

The tactics Adrian employed were the same ones Irene had mastered years ago. Quincy’s supposed involvement in those prison brawls was nothing but hearsay. Even if he had caused trouble, it was likely in self-defense, driven to the brink by the cruelty of others. As long as he remained behind bars, Adrian had the upper hand.

Irene’s gaze slowly shifted to meet Adrian’s. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Then, with a sudden, trembling movement, she knocked the bowl from his hand, and the medicine splashed onto the carpet.

Unfazed, Adrian pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands casually. Whether she took the medicine or not seemed to make no difference to him. “Grandma, do you despise me?”

Tears welled up in Irene’s eyes, pooling at the corners before spilling down her weathered cheeks. She bit her lip so hard it turned pale, torn between a nod and a refusal to condemn him fully. The boy who once had bright, innocent eyes had grown into a man, hardened and sharp.

Adrian said, “When I was eighteen, Uncle Quincy orchestrated a plan to take my father from me. Two years later, he hired someone to kill me. He used every trick in the book—drugs, poison, assassins. Everything he could to erase me. Because of him, Rebecca’s father and brother died. You knew it all, but to keep from losing your son again, you chose to look the other way, time and time again!”

Irene shut her eyes, the weight of her guilt crushing her. She shook her head, silently begging him to stop. It was all her fault!

“And then,” Adrian continued, “you forced me into that marriage with Joelle. You made me lie with her, over and over, against my will. Now, look where we are. Do you still think your decisions were right?”

Irene’s eyes flew open, tears streaming unchecked down her face. “Adrian, deep down, you and your mother wish I would just die, don’t you?”

Adrian picked up two tissues, dabbing at her tears with the same cool detachment he’d shown earlier. “You’re wrong, Grandma. My mother and I never hated you. Despite everything, you’re still my grandmother, someone I respect. You taught me how to navigate the business world, how to survive in it. I’ll never forget that.” His voice softened, his head bowing slightly as he spoke. “So, Grandma, isn’t it time you gave me what I deserve?”

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