It was Caleb.
He had seen the feral rage in Theodore and witnessed Bianca crumpled on the floor, shaken. Instinct took over as he bolted forward and began pounding his tiny fists against Theodore’s leg, shrieking through tears, “Bad Daddy! You hit Mommy! You’re a bad daddy! I hate you! I hate you!”
The sharp cries and pounding triggered Theodore’s already unraveling nerves, scorched raw by fury and regret. It was no different from throwing gasoline onto an open flame.
To him, Caleb was the bastard child that Bianca used to manipulate him. He was the one who pushed him to misjudge Clarisse and hurt her over and over again.
His rage snapped. Without warning, he raised his leg and kicked Caleb hard.
A short, piercing scream tore through the air. Caleb’s small body flew several feet before crashing to the
ground. He lay there unmoved.
“Caleb!” Bianca’s shrill screams were gut–wrenching. She scrambled toward Caleb and held him desperately in her arms.
“What’s going on? Why all the screaming again?” Theodore’s parents rushed down the stairs, only to stop
cold at the sight unfolding in front of them.
“Theodore Brooke! Have you lost your mind?” Miranda screamed. She shoved away Theodore, who was
still standing in place with fury. She stared in horror at Caleb lying limp in Bianca’s arms. “That’s your son!
Your own flesh and blood! How could you do this to him? Were you trying to kill him?”
Edward stood frozen, face ashen. His body trembled with rage as he jabbed a finger at Theodore. “You
bastard! Have you lost it? Over Clarisse? You’d lay a hand on your own child for a woman? You’re not
human!”
“Kill?” Theodore forced a cold laugh. His eyes were bloodshot like a feral animal.
“You’re right, Mom. I did want to kill him. The biggest mistake of my life was not getting rid of this bastard
child when he was still in the womb.”
The word “bastard” hit the room like a thunderclap. Theodore’s parents stood stunned, their minds blank
with shock.
Miranda’s wails caught in her throat. She stared at Theodore in disbelief, her voice trembling
uncontrollably. “What… What are you saying? Caleb, he’s…”
“I’m not making anything up.” Theodore’s eyes swept across Bianca’s pale face, down to the unconscious
boy in her arms.
“She said it herself. She tried to drug me that night and failed. So, she found some guy who looked
vaguely like me and got herself pregnant with that bastard child. She even put the baby into that house
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with toxic levels of formaldehyde on purpose, causing him to get leukemia.
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“She did all this just to win our sympathy and crawl her way back into our family! This is the so–called heir
you’ve been dreaming of!”
Miranda reeled as though struck by lightning. She looked from the limp Caleb in Bianca’s arm to Bianca herself, now trembling in fear. “Bianca… Is it true? Tell me!”
Bianca’s whole body shook uncontrollably. Her lips quivered, but no sound came out. She only tightened
her grip on Caleb, clinging to him in terror.
To Miranda, her silence was as good as a confession. All the love and tenderness she once had instantly turned to a wildfire of betrayal.
“My sweet boy! The grandson I longed for was just some bastard? You shameless wretch! You’ve
disgraced our entire family!”
She raised her hand, ready to slap Bianca across the face. But as she caught sight of the slight swell in
her belly, her hand froze midair.
A flicker of hope lit her eyes.
“The one you’re carrying now. Is he a Brooke?” she asked.
That question snapped Bianca out of her daze. Hope flared in her eyes.
She still had the baby.
She turned to Miranda, sobbing in desperation, “What happened with Caleb… I was out of options! I was stupid and made a terrible mistake!” Her hands clutched her belly like it was her lifeline.
“But this one–this child in my belly–is really Theodore’s! It’s his flesh and blood! He’s your grandson, a
true heir of the Brooke family!”
Miranda latched onto her words like a drowning woman grabbing for driftwood. Her face lit up with relief.
“That’s good. Everything’s alright. As long as this one is real, our family still has an heir.”
To Theodore, the entire scene felt ridiculous. Miranda had just learned that the grandson she had adored
was a lie. Yet instead of confronting Bianca’s twisted lies, her first reaction was to ask whether the next
child was real. If it were, everything else could be swept under the rug.
Coldness spread through him like frostbite. All that was left inside him was a hollow, bitter ache.
He had ruined everything for this bastard child. Again and again, he had compromised. He had hurt Clarisse until she finally gave up on him and walked away.
Now, the weight of regret crashed down like an avalanche, suffocating him. His chest tightened until he
could not breathe.
“Clarisse… It’s my fault… It’s all my fault…” Theodore murmured, dazed. The guilt swallowed him whole in an endless sea of remorse. It felt like his heart was being shredded apart by something merciless, leaving
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him gasping for air.
That was when he noticed the document envelope. The very one Clarisse had sent him.
He lunged toward it like a dying man grasping for air, hands shaking as he tore it open.
There was no letter nor gift. Nothing he had hoped for was found in there.
It was just a piece of paper. The bold silver characters on it burned his eyes like a brand.
“Divorce Certificate.”
With trembling fingers, he read the next line.
“Theodore Brooke and Clarisse Hart.”
Whatever fragile thread of hope he had snapped in an instant. His mind went blank, and his vision darkened. His knees buckled, and his figure reeled.
The sound of him collapsing to the ground echoed through the room.
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Memories flashed through Theodore’s mind. Clarisse had handed him a file after that auction, when he
asked her if she wanted anything, guilt–stricken. He did not even take a look before Bianca’s call
interrupted him. He signed it carelessly and left.
He was the one who caused all this. He was the one who had let Clarisse go from his life.
He clutched the divorce certificate tightly, knuckles bone–white. Hot tears fell in heavy drops, soaking through the paper.
“Clarisse…” A broken sob tore from his lips like the cry of a dying animal. It carried a despair and regret too deep to name.
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Chapter 13
