Chapter 67: A Late-Night Talk
“Mom, tell me the truth—what really happened?” Cora pressed gently.
Her mother was massaging her legs as she spoke, her voice calm and practical. “Pregnancy makes the body swell. Let me help you a bit. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve been reading books on childcare these days. I might not have had the luck to carry a baby myself, but I’ll make sure you and the baby are cared for.”
The tenderness in her mother’s tone hit Cora straight in the chest. Her eyes burned.
“Mom, take a break. Let’s just talk,” Cora said, pulling her down beside her on the bed. “What actually happened with Dad? Why couldn’t he have kids?”
Her mother sighed. “When you were four, your father had an accident. Do you remember? He had major surgery afterward. We’d been married for years and still had no child. Of course people started talking. Your grandmother especially—she hounded me every day.”
Cora nodded slowly, listening.
“I went to the hospital myself,” her mother went on quietly. “My results were normal. Perfectly normal. But your grandmother refused to believe it. She said I bribed the doctor for a fake report.” She gave a helpless little laugh. “It was during that surgery I found out—your father was born with azoospermia. He couldn’t have children. I told the doctor to keep it quiet. He was about to go through another risky operation, and I didn’t want him crushed by the truth. After that, life just… went on. I never brought it up again. We were getting older. I told myself it didn’t matter. Having you was enough.”
Cora shot upright. So that’s it.
Her mother had carried the blame for two decades—while the man who couldn’t have children was out flirting and chasing women, all to “have a son of his own.”
The irony was almost nauseating. The one who could give life was branded barren, and the truly infertile one strutted around as the victim.
Her mother misread her silence as worry. “Don’t fret, sweetheart. It’s not such a tragedy. We still have you, don’t we? You’ve always been my greatest blessing.”
Cora turned to look at her. The years of housework had etched fine lines into her mother’s face, softening what must once have been a radiant beauty. Her heart clenched.
“Mom, look at you,” she whispered, tracing her mother’s brow with her fingers. “You’ve aged so much taking care of everyone. Come on—I’m taking you for a facial.”
Her mother flushed. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. At my age? People will laugh at me.”
“Mom!” Cora put on a mock scowl. “You’re not old—you’re just tired. And besides, when the baby’s born and asks why Grandma looks so serious, what am I supposed to say?”
That one landed. Her mother smiled despite herself.
Cora seized the moment, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “You have to treat yourself better. You’ll see—once you get pampered a little, Dad will notice too.”
At the mention of her husband, her mother’s resistance melted. She nodded.
Cora hid a sigh. Mom, if you knew the truth about him…
She gathered their things and led her mother out the door. Whatever it takes, I’ll make it up to you. Everything they took from you, I’ll return.
—
From the hotel window upstairs, Julian watched the two women climb into the car. He didn’t know what Cora was planning, but whatever it was, he would back her.
A soft knock came at the door. Austin entered, treading lightly. “Mr. Watson, Mrs. Watson and her mother just left for a beauty center.”
Julian nodded. “Follow them. Stay close. Whatever she wants to do tonight—let her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Austin bowed and turned to go, but someone murmured in his ear outside the door. He froze, then looked back.
“What is it?” Julian’s voice dropped.
“Sir… it’s Laura. She’s been wandering the city looking for you.”
Julian’s mouth curved in a razor-thin smile. “Of course she has.” He waved Austin away.
Dev family, all cut from the same rotten cloth.
He changed clothes and grabbed his keys. Maybe he’d go sit in a bar for a while—Cora was out, and the silence in the room suddenly felt heavier than it should.
—
Meanwhile, Cora tugged her mother happily into the glowing entrance of Lindon’s most luxurious beauty center. The moment they stepped out of the car, a team of staff rushed forward with practiced smiles and brochures.
Cora pointed at one of them. “That one. For both of us.”
“Of course,” said the floor manager brightly. “We’ll have our best specialist take care of you.”
Her mother had never been anywhere like this—white marble floors, soft lighting, the faint scent of rose and citrus in the air. She perched stiffly on the treatment bed, unsure where to put her hands.
To break the tension, the beautician started chatting. “That young lady who came in with you—she’s your daughter, right? She’s stunning.”
Cora’s mother smiled shyly, her fingers curling around the edge of the blanket. “She is.”
Her voice trembled with pride—and something deeper, something that finally, for the first time in decades, almost sounded like contentment.