Noah's mother stared at him with confusion written all over her face. Her brows furrowed, and her lips parted as if trying to understand what he had just said.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, a mix of worry and disbelief clouding her tone.
But Noah's face was the exact opposite—twisted into a grin that didn't reach his eyes. His smile was sharp, bitter, and laced with a darkness that made his mother's stomach churn. His eyes burned with a strange fire as he spat the words out.
"That woman was right," he said, sounding almost amused but in a cruel, twisted way.
"We really are a joke. The Hamilton heir has taken my wife and now he's running us into the ground."
His mother recoiled slightly, her eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.
"What's the point in saying that now?" she asked, not hiding her irritation. She couldn't understand why her son was spiraling into this storm of emotions and resentment.
