Chapter 6
Felix on the other end was clearly stunned into silence by Cecily's commanding tone.
Cecily had no time to waste arguing.
"I'm on my way over right now," she declared, her voice dropping to an icy calm. "And if Ethan isn't delivered to me in one piece, I swear to God I will burn that entire estate to the ground."
With that, she slammed the table, grabbed her car keys, and bolted out the door.
They thought she was some pushover? They had no idea who they were dealing with. Her son needed her, and she was coming for him.
"Please do not make things difficult for me. These are Mrs. Rose Hayes' orders," Felix explained.
His tone sounded polite but firm, making it clear Cecily meant nothing to him.
For the last three years, the imposter had groveled and scraped to please Rose, completely destroying the authority of her position.
Cecily sneered, "Mrs. Rose Hayes' orders?
"And I suppose I should thank her for taking over my job as a mother? Felix, I respect you, but let's be crystal clear: Ethan is my son, not a piece of your property.
"If you try to stop me from seeing him, I will call the police and report you for unlawful imprisonment of a minor. Do you understand?"
"You!"
Felix was so stunned that he couldn't form a word.
He had served Rose for decades, but he had never witnessed a family member dare to challenge her so openly.
Cecily was a changed woman.
He took a deep breath.
"You wait. I will consult with Mrs. Rose Hayes."
The line went dead. Cecily was already out the door.
Rose lived on the outskirts of the city, over an hour's drive away.
Cecily, however, kept the accelerator pinned to the floor and cut the travel time down to a mere forty minutes.
As she sped toward the grand iron gates, a security guard recognized her license plate and stepped out to block her path.
"Mrs. Rose Hayes has given orders. No visitors today."
"Move," Cecily said, not even bothering to turn off the engine as she threw her car door open.
"I'm not a visitor. I'm here to take my son home."
The guard opened his mouth to protest, but she was already past him, her long strides eating up the gravel of the driveway.
This place was vast, its traditional architecture exuding an aura of unyielding power.
Cecily marched through it with the familiarity of someone who belonged there, heading straight for the main house.
With a livid face, Felix met her on the steps.
"What is the meaning of this? Mrs. Rose Hayes is resting."
"Resting?" Cecily sneered. "How nice for her. My son is in here suffering, and she's taking a nap."
Felix's face hardened. "Be careful what you say!
"Your son is receiving a proper education. It is hardly suffering."
"A proper education?" Cecily laughed.
"Fine. Then let's go see exactly what your 'proper' methods look like."
She brushed past him and shoved open the heavy doors to the main house.
In the hall, an old woman with silver hair sat enthroned in an ornate armchair with a cup in hand, radiating an air of absolute authority.
It was George's mother, Rose.
She yelled, "Insolence!"
Her voice, though aged, was as sharp as a whip as she slammed her cup down.
"Who gave you permission to barge in here?"
Cecily stopped in the center of the room, meeting the older woman's glacial stare without flinching. "I'm here," she said, "to take my son home."
"Home? You suddenly remember you have a son? Do you have any idea what a spoiled brat you've raised over the last three years? I am trying to instill some discipline in him, and you dare to come here and challenge me?"
"Yes," Cecily said, taking a deep breath and admitting it without shame. "For the past three years, I failed him.
"But that was the past. From now on, I will be the one to raise him."
"You?" Rose scoffed, looking her up and down with disdain. "You're insane."
"Whether I am or not isn't for you to decide. Ethan is my son, and I have the right to take him home."
"You have no right! He is out of control because of you, and he will stay here until he learns some respect. Otherwise, he will be a failure!"
Cecily's voice shook with rage, but a chilling smile touched her lips. "I have no right to my own son? You're quite the tyrant, aren't you?"
The tension between them was a tangible thing, a spark away from an explosion.
Just then, frantic footsteps sounded from the second-floor landing.
"Mom!"
A boy around ten years old, dressed in a stiff robe, came flying down the stairs. His face looked pale, and his eyes were red-rimmed.
It was Ethan.
"Mom, you finally came!" he cried, launching himself at her.
He threw his arms around her waist and held up his hands. "Mom, look. It hurts. It hurts so bad..."
Cecily looked down and froze in shock.
His tender skin was marred by countless swollen blisters. Some were broken open, weeping blood.
"What is this?" Cecily's voice trembled.
She knelt, gently taking his small hands in hers as tears instantly flooded her eyes.
"I had to copy lines," Ethan sobbed. "Grandma said my handwriting was bad, so she made me copy the family rules a hundred times. She said I couldn't eat or sleep until I finished."