Chapter 45: Shock

"Answer me, Ivan! When in the world did you transform into someone unrecognizable? I've spent years teaching you to be a gentleman, not a scoundrel like your wretched father!" Mum's voice echoed with a mix of frustration and disappointment as she barked at me.

I felt an uncontrollable surge of anger coursing through my veins as her words cut deep, like a sword striking at the core of my being. In that moment, I couldn't bear to remain in her presence any longer.

Rising from my seat, I stood with determination, the fiery storm of emotions propelling me towards my room, as if retreating could shield me from the relentless barrage of accusations.

Each step I took seemed to resonate with the echoing thud of my heartbeat, pounding in time with my turbulent thoughts. But as I embarked on my fifth step, her furious voice, undeterred by my retreat, halted me in my tracks.

"Stop right there, Ivan!!!"

Her command hung in the air like an unshakable decree, anchoring me to the spot. The rage that had propelled me forward now smoldered beneath the surface, a volatile mix of emotions ready to erupt. I balled my hands into tight fists, my knuckles aching under the pressure of my clenched resolve.

From behind, I could hear the measured, deliberate approach of her footsteps, each one echoing like a slow, impending reckoning. Her voice, still carrying the weight of her anger, sliced through the charged atmosphere.

"I'm still talking to you, Ivan, so turn around and look at me!"

Her words were a summons I couldn't ignore, and I begrudgingly pivoted on my heel to face her. Her eyes blazed with fury, her features contorted with a combination of disappointment and righteous indignation. It was a gaze that bore into my very soul, peeling away the layers of my facade to expose the raw truth beneath.

"Look at what you've become, Ivan," she thundered, her words laced with condemnation. "You've become a godforsaken male prostitute!!"

The accusation hung between us like an unbridgeable chasm, the weight of her words pressing down on me until I could no longer contain the tempest raging within. With a guttural roar, I unleashed my pent-up anger, my fists unclenching as if they had a will of their own.

The words erupted from my lips like molten lava, fueled by a fiery mix of frustration, guilt, and resentment. It was a torrent of emotions that had been building for far too long, and now, in the midst of our heated confrontation, it found its voice.

"I wouldn't have become the male prostitute you just called me if you had stayed with me," I retorted, my voice trembling with a volatile combination of anger and hurt. Each word carried the weight of years of feeling neglected and abandoned. "Instead of flying out of the country for months just because of your nonsense business!!!"

The harsh truth of my accusation hung in the air, a stark reminder of the choices my mother had made over the years. The surprised expression that appeared on her face was like a crack in the facade of her unwavering determination. For a brief moment, the mask of steadfast resolve slipped, revealing a glimpse of the turmoil within.

Her silence spoke volumes, a pregnant pause in the midst of our verbal battle. It was a silence heavy with unspoken regrets and the haunting realization that our relationship had deteriorated to this point. The room seemed to shrink around us, the tension between us palpable.

I stood there, my chest heaving with the intensity of our exchange, waiting for her response. The weight of my words hung heavily in the air, a challenge to the choices she had made, and a plea for understanding and reconciliation.

My mother's voice dripped with a mixture of incredulity and wounded pride as she fired back, "Oh, so now you're putting the blame on me, right?" Her words carried a weight of accusation that reverberated in the charged atmosphere of the room.

I could feel the tension between us escalate, and the gravity of my words settled upon me like a heavy shroud. A soft sigh escaped my lips, a whispered admission of regret for the hurtful words I had hurled at her. In that moment, I realized the damage my anger had inflicted, not just on our relationship, but on the woman who had sacrificed so much for my future.

"No," I replied, my voice softened with remorse. "I didn't mean to put the blame on you."

"Oh, then what did you mean by you wouldn't have become the....the Mae prostitute you've become if I hadn't travelled out of the country for business, huh?" She asked, and I remained quiet.

"Answer me, Ivan," she demanded, her voice unyielding. "Are you blaming me for your actions?"

My voice wavered as I countered, "I'm not blaming you, Mum. I'm only suggesting that things might have unfolded differently if you were here with me, guiding me, and spending more time instead of focusing solely on your business."

She scoffed, her voice tinged with exasperation. "Can you even hear the gibberish you're spewing? If I had stayed here with you all these years, do you think I'll have the amount of money I have right now? Do you think I'll have the wealth and achievements I've worked tirelessly to attain?"

Her words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the sacrifices she had made for my future. I remained silent, a mixture of regret and understanding settling within me.

"Ivan, everything I've done since your father left us," she continued, her tone softening slightly, "I did it all for you. The companies, organizations, wealth, assets—every bit of it, all for your future. Yet, you seem to perceive me as an absent mother chasing after money."

My frustration and pent-up emotions boiled to the surface, and I couldn't help but raise my voice. "Mum, I promise you, that's not how I see it."

A note of exasperation colored her tone as she persisted, "No, that's exactly how you see it. If you truly grasped that everything I'm doing is for your benefit, you would have exercised self-control instead of getting entangled in reckless behavior like your father."

Fury welled up within me, and I roared, "Don't compare me to that scumbag!"

Her voice grew more intense, mirroring my anger. "Why shouldn't I? He was irresponsible, and you... you're even worse!"

Unable to contain my frustration, I shouted, "Stop!"

But she pressed on, seemingly relentless in her pursuit of the truth. "You're bitter, aren't you? The truth stings, doesn't it? You've become exactly what you claim to despise—just like your father."

"I said stop!" I yelled, my anger boiling over. In a moment of uncontrolled rage, I snatched a nearby flower vase from the table and hurled it to the ground. The shattering of glass echoed through the room, but what I saw next would haunt me forever.

My mother gasped in shock, recoiling in terror as shards of glass rained down around her. Then, suddenly, she collapsed to the floor, her lifeless form lying amidst the wreckage. A pool of blood spread from her head, staining the pristine marble.

My eyes widened in sheer horror as I realized the extent of the catastrophe I had unleashed. "Oh my God!"