Chapter 1705: Mother and son

Did Zoren ever regret getting into Penny’s case?

It was a question he never got to ask, because when he began reading those case files, he moved on to get as much information about her.

Initially, it was his only way to raise a middle finger to the world that was trying to tell him he was wrong. That what he believed did not matter. It was all because of ego, pride, and boredom, with a sprinkle of getting justice for the man he considered one of his people.

That was all there was—nothing more, nothing less.

But every answer he got would leave another, bigger question. Every file he read just looked a little more ridiculous than the last. And every single day, it led him down a darker path—a descent.

Because the more he knew, the more he realized this case was not just Penny’s. Rather, this case actually had something to do with him—the Pierson Family.

And this was something he never thought he would uncover when he started this obsession.

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SLAP!

Zoren’s face was turned to the side, his cheek burning from the resounding slap that echoed.

"Ungrateful bastard. How dare you show your face to me, huh?" A woman’s sharp voice rang in the room, snickering at him. "I’ve always known this would happen. I should’ve killed you even before you were born."

Zoren glanced up at Mark, who took a step toward him. He raised a hand, stopping his lead security.

"Leave us alone, Mark," he ordered.

Reluctance shone in Mark’s eyes, clearly not pleased by this. However, he didn’t protest and quietly left the private ward of the asylum.

Once Mark closed the door, Zoren slowly turned his head to the woman standing before him.

There, standing a step before him, was Naylani Pierson.

She glared at him as if she weren’t looking at her own son. Her eyes were filled with contempt and disgust.

"You!" she breathed out heavily, raising her throbbing hand to strike him again. "I should’ve disciplined you even more, instead of letting that old hag coddle you—"

Before her hand could strike him, Zoren grabbed her arm to stop her midway. Naylani clenched her teeth and tried pushing her hand, but to no avail.

Zoren didn’t budge, his grip on her arm tightening. Meeting his mother’s eyes, he spoke under his breath:

"Madam, you’ve struck me once. And once is the only time I can tolerate."

"Hah!" Naylani scoffed, her eyes burning. "Once? How dare you—Zoren, you are JUST my son. You don’t get to talk to your mother like that. Let me go! I’m not done yet!"

With her hand gripped in his, she raised her other hand to strike him. However, Zoren caught it midair. Thus, in the end, she ended up screaming, struggling under his grip, and landing a kick at his leg.

But all of that was futile.

Naylani did her best and screamed her lungs out until her throat started to scratch, but all it did was tire her out.

In the end, Naylani slumped on the floor, her hands clasping and trembling.

Meanwhile, Zoren stood there, eyes down at her.

"Madam," he called, not even squatting to meet her eyes. "Are you done?"

"Done?" Naylani scoffed in ridicule, looking up at him, who was just coldly looking down at her. "Ha! Hahaha! You think locking me in this place is enough to stop me? Hah! Zoren, like I said, you are just my son. Had it not been for me, you wouldn’t even be in this world!"

Her face twisted, laughing at him in mockery. "Even if you lock me in here, I am still your mother, Zoren. I am the woman who gave birth to you, and even if you burn the world, you can’t change that."

"..." Zoren didn’t react; his icy gaze didn’t even grow colder.

He just stared back at her as if there was nothing left in his heart. No more anger, no more questions, no more pain. All that was left was numbness.

Naylani Pierson, his so-called mother, was truly a spectacle.

A mother he wished he had never had. After all, growing up, all Zoren could remember was this woman manipulating him into doing things for her favor. It was Naylani who forced him to take the seat of the head of the Pierson Family, because by doing so, she could have more control.

Many of his projects in the past, and many of the family members he severed ties with, were all people who opposed Naylani. Most of Zoren’s actions in the past were all to please his mother, just so he could be enough for her.

Just so he could hear her say, "I’m proud of you, son," or "I love you, son."

Perhaps, even just to hear her say, "It’s alright, Zoren."

Yet, even when he did what she asked him to do, or signed documents to sustain her luxurious lifestyle, it was not enough. It was never enough. It was all the same from when he was young until now.

Back then, no matter how well he did something, one little mistake—such as touching something she liked—could lead to punishment. She wouldn’t beat him, but she would deprive him of food or even lock him in the cellar or closet. She couldn’t do that to him as an adult, but she had no qualms slapping him in the face or humiliating him, even demeaning him to an impossible length.

But after enduring that for decades, Zoren couldn’t feel the slightest disappointment in her.

Staring deep into her eyes while still standing before her, he finally broke his silence. "You’re not my mother."

"What?" Naylani scoffed, staring up at him. "Zoren, even if you deny it, you and I—"

"Jonathan," Zoren interjected in the same calm tone. "I am wondering... if I should slit his neck in front of you, or spare you from the mess."

The second Zoren mentioned Jonathan, Naylani’s expression paled. Her eyes slowly dilated, studying the faint amusement that was appearing in his eyes.

"Why did you turn quiet?" he tilted his head. "Are you scared that I’d do the same thing you asked me to do to others... to your son?"