Chapter 158 158

Chapter 158 158
RYAN

"So... now what?" she asked, forcing a hollow laugh that sounded nothing like the confident woman who had walked into the café less than half an hour earlier. "Are you still planning to ruin my life?"

I looked at her for several long seconds before shaking my head.

"No."

Confusion flashed across her face.

"No?"

I let out a slow breath, trying to keep my temper under control because I knew that if I allowed my anger to take over, I would say things I could never take back.

"Just leave, Miranda."

She frowned.

"That's it?"

"I said leave."

Her eyes narrowed as though she couldn't decide whether I was serious.

"What happened to all that talk about lawyers and reports?"

My jaw tightened.

"I don't want to look at you anymore."

Then she laughed again, although this time there was nothing pleasant about the sound.

"You know what your problem is, Ryan?"

I didn't answer.

"You always needed somebody else to tell you what to believe." She reached for her handbag and slung it over her shoulder before looking me squarely in the eye. "First it was your mother. Then it was me. Now it's Emily."

I held her gaze without blinking.

"I finally know who to believe."

She scoffed.

"Good for you."

She turned toward the exit, but before getting far from me, she stopped and looked back one last time.

"Your family is far too much trouble for anyone with common sense anyway."

I remained silent.

She smiled cruelly.

"And for the record..." she said, her voice carrying clearly across the room, "...your father was a much better lay than you ever were."

The fuck? She was having sex with..

When I refused to give her that satisfaction of reacting, her smile faltered ever so slightly.

"Oh," she continued with a shrug, "and since honesty seems to be today's theme, we never actually had sex that night."

The words landed like another blow.

"You passed out drunk before anything happened."

She gave me one last mocking smile.

"I guess that mystery's solved too."

Without another word, she walked out of the café, disappearing into the afternoon crowd. I guess that’s it with Miranda.

Damn! It couldn’t have ended more pleasantly.

"Fuck..."

The curse escaped in a broken whisper.

I dropped enough cash on the table to cover untouched coffee before walking out of the café and heading straight for my car.

There was only one person I needed to see.

By the time I pulled into the detention facility's parking lot, I had already accepted that there wasn't an explanation in the world capable of justifying what had been done.

After presenting my identification at the front desk and signing the visitor log, I was escorted through the familiar security procedures before another officer led me down a quiet hallway lined with reinforced doors. 

The officer stopped outside one of the interview rooms before unlocking the door and motioning for me to step inside.

"I'll let her know you're here," he said politely before disappearing into the hallway.

I thanked him quietly before taking a seat at the metal table positioned in the center of the room. 

As the minutes stretched by, I found myself staring at the empty chair across from me, wondering how a woman who had once tucked me into bed at night and celebrated every milestone of my childhood had become someone I barely recognized. 

The door finally opened, and my mother walked inside wearing the standard detention uniform, yet somehow she still carried herself with the same confidence and dignity she always had. 

The moment our eyes met, she smiled as though she were greeting me at Sunday dinner instead of inside a detention facility.

"It's about time you came to visit your mother, Ryan."

Her voice was warm, almost affectionate, and the normalcy of it caught me completely off guard because she spoke as though nothing significant had happened between us. There wasn't an ounce of shame on her face or even the slightest indication that she understood the damage she had caused.

I stared at her for several moments before finally finding my voice.

"You were expecting me?"

"Of course," she replied with complete confidence as she folded her hands neatly on the table. "I knew you'd eventually come to your senses."

A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it.

"My senses?"

She nodded without hesitation.

"Now that you've finally seen Emily's true colors, perhaps you'll convince her to stop this ridiculous campaign against me because this entire situation has gone far enough."

For several long moments, I simply looked at the woman sitting across from me, wondering if she genuinely believed the words coming out of her mouth or if she had simply repeated the lie so many times that it had become her reality.

Finally, I leaned back in my chair and asked the only question that truly mattered.

"What did Emily ever do to you?"

The smile faded from her face almost instantly.

"What?"

"What did Emily ever do that made you hate her so much?"

She frowned, clearly annoyed by the question.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

I shook my head slowly before letting out another humorless laugh.

"You know what, Mom?"

"What?"

"You're excused."

Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"No," I replied, leaning forward until there could be no misunderstanding between us. "You're excused from pretending because I'm done believing the version of events you're about to feed me."

Her expression hardened immediately.

"Ryan—"

"I spent years believing every word you said simply because you were my mother," I continued, refusing to let her interrupt me. "I defended you when I should have questioned you."

Her eyes narrowed.

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

"How dare I?" I repeated, my voice trembling with emotions I could no longer contain. "Miranda told me everything."

For the first time since entering the room, absolute silence settled between us.

I watched the confidence slowly drain from her face as I held her gaze without looking away.

"She told me about the fake pregnancy," I said quietly. "She told me it was your idea, and she admitted that you convinced her it was the only way to make me give up on Emily."

Every trace of composure disappeared from her expression before she glanced briefly toward the correctional officer standing quietly near the door.

I waited.

I wanted an explanation.

I wanted an apology.

I wanted anything that resembled remorse.

Instead, she slowly rose from her chair and said in an emotionless voice, "I'd like to return to my cell."

The officer immediately stepped forward, and I stared at my mother in complete disbelief.

"That's it?" I asked as she refused to meet my eyes. "You don't even have the courage to explain yourself to your own son, and you don't have a single word of regret after everything you've done?"

She remained completely silent as the officer gently guided her toward the door, and without looking back even once, she walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the painful realization that she would rather lose her son forever than admit she had been wrong.