Chapter 2

I didn't even bother looking at Andrew and his ridiculous loyalty to the wrong side. I just stared at the man in the bed, my eyes boring into him.

Richard was pushing seventy, and even though death was clearly knocking at his door, he still had that refined, handsome quality about him—the kind that made you feel at ease just being around him.

But for the first time ever, looking at him made me feel sick.

He must've caught the disgust in my eyes, because something like hurt flashed across Richard's dying gaze. "Victoria, come here."

One arm was wrapped around Susan's waist, and he held out his other hand to me.

I really didn't want to go anywhere near him, but curiosity got the better of me—I wanted to hear what bullshit he was about to spew. So I walked over.

The second I got close, Richard grabbed my hand and said, "I know I've wronged you this lifetime, but this is my only wish before I die. Please, just grant me this."

I frowned but didn't say anything.

He smiled, "Even if you don't agree, I've already made the will. There's nothing you can change now."

I stared coldly at this dying man, and at Susan sitting beside him with that smug little smile on her face.

"What makes you think I can't change it?" I let out a sneer.

Richard said, "Victoria, I've wronged you—that's on me. Susan has nothing to do with it. If there's a next life, I'll make it up to you then, but please don't take it out on Susan."

His voice turned anxious, but his body was so weak that his words came out barely above a whisper.

Seeing him like this, half-dead already, I didn't feel sad anymore. I just coldly pulled my hand away. "No need to wait for the next life. In this one, I won't give you the chance to wrong me."

My words delivered the final blow. Richard reached out desperately, trying to grab my hand, but he couldn't catch it.

He kept calling out urgently, "Victoria—"

But his voice got weaker and weaker until his outstretched hand fell back onto the hospital bed, his head lolled to the side, and he went completely still.

Andrew rushed over the moment he saw what had happened, and when he realized Richard was already dead, he whipped around to glare at me. "Mom, what the hell are you doing? You trying to make sure Dad doesn't even get to rest in peace?"

I stared at the man in front of me—forty-something years old, but his face barely showed it. He looked just like his father, blessed with the same good looks.

But now I could see he'd inherited more than just Richard's handsome face. He'd gotten his father's rotten heart, too.

"Rest in peace? By handing over everything we have to some stranger?" I let out a bitter laugh.

"Money—that's all you care about! How can you call Susan a stranger? She's the woman Dad loved most, and she's the one who looked after me growing up. She's like a second mother to me, so what's wrong with Dad leaving her the money?"

"Oh, Andrew.. Susan pressed her hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. "I always knew you cared about me all these years."

I wanted to laugh. The whole situation was absurd, but what really got me was that these words were coming from my son's mouth.

What kind of forty-year-old man talks like this?

I had to face the truth—I'd failed as a mother.