Chapter 39 39
Chapter 39 39
Chapter 39
They all had breakfast together that morning. While eating, Vladimir kept stealing glances at his mother, who was laughing at something Fabian had said.
“I told you not to put salt in the omelette again. It’s too salty, isn’t it?” Sonia asked after handing Fabian a glass of water. Fabian immediately warned the two kids not to eat the omelette anymore.
“You didn’t tell me you already salted it,” Fabian defended himself. Sonia pouted and asked if he was blaming her.
Fabian raised his hands. “No, I’m not. I just should’ve tasted it again before adding more salt.”
France nudged Vladimir lightly under the table, causing the other boy to look at him.
“Get used to it,” France whispered. “They’re always like that when they’re together—like they live in their own world.”
Vladimir smiled shyly. “Mom looks prettier when she smiles,” he whispered back.
France grinned and nodded in agreement. Sonia paused mid-bite and looked at the two boys, who were now whispering closely and giggling together across the table.
“Anyway, baby, the dinner party will be tonight. Fabian and I agreed to just hold the celebration here at the mansion. We’re going to cook everything ourselves,” Sonia said. “So what’s your plan this morning?”
She explained that she and Fabian would be busy shopping for ingredients and preparing food.
“I’m taking Vladimir around the subdivision. Later, we’ll go visit Grandma,” France replied confidently.
Fabian immediately objected. “Did you ask your grandma? She might not be at the mansion. And don’t go to the company either—it’s not safe there, and no adult will be with you.”
“I called Aunt Sophia yesterday. She said she’ll come with us. Grandma also said she’s off work today because Grandpa’s having a rheumatic flare-up,” France explained.
Fabian turned to Vladimir. “Only if you’re okay with it. Otherwise, you can stay here.”
Vladimir looked at him innocently. “It’s okay. I want to go with France.”
Sonia smiled softly. “After you eat, go wash up and change clothes, okay?”
Vladimir paused. “I don’t have any clothes here.”
“Didn’t you see your room when you came down earlier?” France asked, surprised.
Vladimir blinked. France promised he’d take him there after breakfast. It was clear how close the two boys were—this was the first time Fabian saw France so engaged and energetic around someone other than Sonia.
He was used to seeing France so lively only when Sonia was around. He hadn’t expected France to act the same way with Vladimir.
When France finished eating, he climbed down from his chair. Vladimir followed, saying goodbye to Sonia and Fabian before heading off with France.
Fabian watched the boys leave. Sonia leaned her elbows on the table and pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“Every time I see Vladimir, my chest tightens. My heart feels so heavy. I want to cry and apologize to him… for leaving him. But—”
“You know that’s not going to heal all his physical and emotional wounds,” Fabian said gently. “If he sees you crying, he’ll only feel worse. He might break down.”
Sonia looked up at Fabian. He cradled her head against his shoulder.
Vladimir didn’t want Sonia to see his scars—not because he was ashamed, but because he knew she would blame herself.
“You’re not at fault, Sonia,” Fabian whispered. “You were a victim too. The ones who should pay for all of this… are the Valencias.”
Sonia’s lips trembled. She clutched tightly at the sleeve of Fabian’s shirt. Her eyes darkened with resolve.
“The Valencias will pay for everything they did to my son… and for ruining my life,” she muttered coldly.
—
Vladimir’s eyes lit up when he saw his room upstairs. The closet was full of clothes—far more than he ever had in the Valencia mansion, where he only owned a few sets aside from his uniform.
“Those are just your home clothes,” France explained. “The outdoor clothes are in your walk-in closet. They’re organized separately.”
France said he knew Vladimir’s measurements, so he made sure everything would fit perfectly.
Books lined the shelves—every single one of Vladimir’s favorites. There were toys, a laptop, gadgets, and even a phone on the desk. By the desk's corner were wrapped gifts waiting to be opened.
“This... This room is really mine?” Vladimir whispered. He sat on the floor in disbelief, staring at the gift boxes.
“We prepared this room just for you. Me, Mom, and Dad helped set it up. Your clothes, shoes, and accessories? Auntie and Grandma picked them out,” France said softly.
“I kind of know what you like but I’m sure you’ll love everything,” he added with a grin.
Vladimir wiped his eyes. He hadn’t realized he was crying again. France quietly watched him, thinking of his mother Sonia.
“Go take a shower. After that, I’ll help reapply medicine to your wounds,” France offered.
Vladimir looked back at him. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” France replied with a smile.
—
Outside Vladimir’s room, Sonia and Fabian stood with the door slightly ajar. They saw France sitting on the bed, gently unwrapping the bandages from Vladimir’s body and applying scar cream.
“The cream I ordered online is working. Some of the scars are already fading,” France said as he carefully worked.
Vladimir gently touched his shoulder. The scars from the whip lashes were deep and harsh.
Sonia gasped and covered her mouth upon seeing them. Fabian quickly turned her around and embraced her.
She let out a muffled sob as she clung to Fabian, her knees weakening. The image of Vladimir’s injuries burned in her mind.
“Is it… ugly?” Vladimir asked softly.
France assured him, “They’ll be gone in a few days.”
Vladimir turned slightly toward him. “You’re not grossed out by the blood?”
France blinked. “Why would I be? No future doctor is afraid of blood,” he said, pointing to himself.
Fabian’s lips tightened. That meant France had known about Vladimir’s condition all this time. He never said a word.
Fabian wanted to talk to France about it, but seeing how focused he was on taking care of Vladimir, Fabian decided against it. Whatever France’s reason was, it must have been for Vladimir’s sake.
France later helped Vladimir get dressed because of his injuries.
—
“Where’s Mom?” France asked when they couldn’t find Sonia downstairs. They were about to leave with Sophia and Lance.
“She’s showering,” Fabian said. “Alright, you two, don’t stay out too late.”
“Do you both have your phones?” Fabian checked France’s bag—mostly gadgets—and nodded in approval.
Vladimir took off his own small bag and showed Fabian what was inside: books, his phone, a few kits, and the medicine prescribed by the doctor.
It was a bit heavy, so Fabian handed the bag to Lance. “Too heavy for him. You carry it.”
Fabian walked them to the car and opened the door.
“Bye, Dad!” France called out as he and Vladimir got in.
Fabian ruffled their hair. “I’ll pick you up later. Don’t give your aunt and grandma a hard time.”
As the car started to drive away, Vladimir glanced back. Fabian was still standing there by the gate, watching them leave.
“What’s wrong?” France asked.
Vladimir hesitated. “I thought your dad was annoying. You complain about him a lot. But… he doesn’t seem so bad.”
France chuckled. “I never said he was bad or that I hated him. He’s just annoying sometimes. But he’s the best parent—just like Mommy Sonia.”
Sophia, sitting in the passenger seat, smiled warmly. She cleared her throat and formally introduced herself, then introduced her brother Lance, who was driving.
“So cute! Now we have two nephews,” Sophia said cheerfully.
Vladimir introduced himself. Lance commented that he looked a lot like Sonia.
“I told you,” France teased. “You look just like Mommy Sonia.”
Vladimir smiled, and Sophia remarked that he looked even more handsome when he smiled.
For the first time, Vladimir enjoyed talking with adults. No one was yelling at him, and they genuinely listened to his stories.
—
At the Martinez mansion, Victor and Themarie arrived later that day. Fabian let them in.
“Martinez. Where is my son?” Victor asked coldly.
Fabian instructed a maid to bring food and refreshments for the guests.
“How about you both sit down and have some juice first?”
Victor suddenly grabbed Fabian by the collar. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Fabian almost laughed. Just yesterday, Victor had gone pale when Fabian threatened him with a broken bottle.
Fabian’s eyes flicked to the front gate—cameras were pointed their way. Typical of Victor to still think about his public image, even now.
“Fabian, what time are we going grocery shopping?” Sonia called from the stairs.
She was in a dress that highlighted her curves, and both Victor and Themarie were stunned to see her looking so healthy—her scars nearly all gone.
“You’re healed?” Victor asked in disbelief.
Sonia had undergone surgery eight months ago. Most of the scars were gone—only faint marks remained on her face.
Her expression darkened when she saw them, but she kept her composure. Physical pain wasn’t enough revenge, and she wouldn’t let them have a chance to strike back later. She couldn’t let emotions win.
“What are you doing here?” Sonia asked, walking toward Fabian.
“What am I doing here? How dare you ask me that after you forcibly took my son! Where is Vladimir?” Victor demanded.
Sonia clenched her fists, but Fabian gently took her hand and loosened her fingers.
He didn’t want her injuring herself.
“You’re not getting Vladimir back,” Fabian said calmly. He intertwined his fingers with Sonia’s and stared Victor down.
“We won’t let this go without accountability. Someone has to answer for the abuse that boy suffered,” Fabian continued, smiling coldly.
Themarie shouted that it was just discipline—Vladimir was too unruly.
A slap echoed through the room. Sonia’s handprint burned red on Themarie’s cheek.
“You have no right, Themarie. You may have Victor—but not the right to hurt my child. I will never allow that. Ever,” Sonia said icily.
Themarie lunged to retaliate, but Fabian caught her wrist and pushed her away.
“If you’re done here, you can leave now. We have things to do and no time to entertain you both,” Fabian said as he placed his hand around Sonia’s waist.
Themarie stomped her feet as Victor dragged her out. Fabian had already called for security in case they needed to be escorted out. With reporters outside, he didn’t want that scene caught on camera.
Victor glanced back. Through the glass wall of the living room, he realized—there was no view inside. No evidence. No footage. No leverage.
They didn’t get the boy. Nothing happened in their favor.
“You bastard, Martinez,” Victor muttered under his breath.