Chapter 151 Fake acknowledgement

Chapter 151 Fake acknowledgement
Knox,

Mark had that look. Disappointment, sharp and unmistakable, settling into the lines of his face as he gripped the steering wheel.

I noticed it the moment we got into the car, the way his jaw tightened and his shoulders stiffened as if he were holding something back. I didn’t understand why.

Shouldn’t I be the one concerned? A woman had just cried in front of me, called out my name like it was a lifeline, and told me she was the mother of Cyrus. That wasn’t something small. That wasn’t something anyone could brush off.

And yet, sitting in the back seat while Mark drove us home, the city lights sliding past the window in blurred streaks, something uncomfortable began to settle in my chest.

A realization that was painstakingly slow and unwelcome. For some reason, my judgment, my rational thoughts, my ability to process situations the way I used to had been getting harder. Like my mind was wading through fog, every conclusion delayed, every instinct dulled.

I hadn’t doubted that woman for even a second. Not her tears, not the way her voice shook when she said my name. I took it all in as truth without questioning it. But my thoughts about Violet were different. Twisted. Ugly. The question rose uninvited and lodged itself deep inside my head.

Did she steal the child?

The idea made my stomach churn, yet I didn’t push it away immediately. That was the part that disturbed me the most. I mean, Cyrus had my feature, so had Violet's. Only stupid person wouldn't see the resemblance. Yet...

In the last six or seven months, I had been working in a line where doubt was survival. Where trusting the wrong person could get you killed. I had learned to question everyone, even the people standing right beside me, even those who claimed loyalty. Paranoia had become second nature, a reflex I couldn’t switch off. So why hadn’t I applied the same logic to that woman?

I should have thought of her as someone trying to plant a seed in my mind, especially when she knew I didn’t remember anything. A stranger with too much information was always a threat. I should have been cautious. Suspicious.

Instead, I swallowed everything she said like a fool.

But I became stupid, didn’t I?

The car was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the soft click of the turn signal. The air inside felt heavy, thick with things unsaid. Mark’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I am going to inform Violet about her,” Mark suddenly said, breaking the silence. His voice was clipped, firm. “This is an urgent situation.”

I straightened in my seat, my pulse spiking. “What do you mean?” I asked sharply. “We need to investigate the truth behind her words. Who is she? She knows me.”

Mark let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Listen, Knox. Lots of people know you. Enemies, friends, acquaintances. Your name carries weight. But who do you think you should trust more?”

His words hit harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again. My throat felt tight, like something was pressing down on it. I looked away, my gaze drifting to the darkened window, my reflection faintly visible in the glass. I barely recognized the man staring back.

“I understand that this is a very difficult period of your life,” Mark continued, his tone softer now but still edged with frustration. “Everything around you, this country, this life, it’s all enough to make anyone question reality. But this one… she is not a friend. Never.”

“Then why did she tell me that she is Cyrus’s mother?” I shot back. My fingers curled into the leather seat, nails pressing in unconsciously. “Why say something like that?”

“Goddamn it.” Mark slammed his palm against the steering wheel, the sound sharp in the confined space. “I should have told Violet that you became a dumbass after everything.” He glanced at me briefly, eyes flashing. “Listen, Knox. Bianca was your mother too. And look how that turned out. A freaking fake.”

My jaw tightened instantly. Heat rushed to my face. “You sound pissed, Mark. I don’t appreciate that tone.”

“And I don’t appreciate the way you stayed quiet when I asked if you were faking your affection toward Violet,” he snapped back without hesitation. “That woman has done everything to find you. Everything. And now…”

He exhaled sharply, the anger draining into something heavier, more exhausted. His shoulders sagged just a little. “I feel bad for her,” he said quietly. “She deserves better.”

His words cut deep, slicing through whatever fragile defense I had left. My chest ached, a dull, persistent pain spreading outward.

“You know that I am trying,” I said, my voice lower now. “Everything she’s been doing… I feel like I need to do something back. To show appreciation.”

Mark shot me a look, disbelief written all over his face. “Seriously?”

I clenched my jaw, grinding my teeth together. The truth was ugly, and I hated how clearly I could see it now. She had turned into a habit before I could love her the way I wanted to. Something familiar, expected. Comfortable, but not consuming.

The day I first met her, she looked like a mystery I wanted to unravel. Sharp eyes, quiet strength, danger wrapped in elegance. I wanted to know her. Craved it. But once she got closer, once she became real, flesh and blood and emotions, I started realizing something that twisted inside me.

She was in love with someone else.

Not me. My old version. The man I no longer remembered. And I didn’t like it.

She told me to stay the way I was. Said she accepted me like this. But how could I, when every look she gave me felt like she was searching for someone else behind my eyes?

“I won’t tell her anything about it,” I said after a moment, my voice steady but cold. “As long as I can recover and remember everything, I’ll be fine.”

“I won’t,” Mark replied quietly. Defeated. Like he’d already lost this argument.

I turned my head away, staring out the window again. I loved fighting. I loved chaos. The thrill of danger. A bottle of whiskey in the morning, another at night. Girls, noise, blood, adrenaline. That was me. Or at least, who I used to be.

And Violet liked a fine, decent man. Lean, perfect, controlled. Someone who hated crime, mafias, meaningless violence. A man who wanted family, stability, peace. Everything I had never wanted. Everything I didn’t know how to be.

I thought she wanted the wild parts too. The way she looked in that bar, bold and unapologetic. The way she rode a bike like she owned the road. I thought she was just as untamed as I was. That she matched me.

But she was acting. Doing it to get my attention. To bring me back.

How could I feel like myself when everyone’s expectations were different?

The car slowed as we pulled into the driveway. I noticed an unfamiliar vehicle parked beside Violet’s in the garage. Sleek. Expensive. My eyes lingered on it for a second, unease flickering through me, but I dismissed it as we stepped out.

The moment I walked into the house, voices carried through the space.

“C’mon, Vio. Everyone knows how much I love you. You can’t just push me away like this!”

A man stood far too close to Violet, his lips puckered exaggeratedly as he leaned in for a kiss. My steps faltered.

“Keep your disgusting face away from me,” Violet laughed, pushing his face away with her hand. Her laughter was light, unbothered.

“How cold,” he sulked dramatically. Cyrus chose that moment to climb onto his leg, tugging at his pants. “Play?” he asked, holding up his favorite toy and waving it enthusiastically.

The man’s face instantly softened. “Here you are, my sweet buddy,” he said, scooping the toy from Cyrus and crouching down. “Only this guy knows my worth in this house.” He let out an exaggerated yelp, earning another laugh from Violet.

“Lower your voice, Dube,” she said, shaking her head as she stood. “You sound like a nagging adult exhausted from adult responsibilities.”

She turned—and saw me.

Her expression shifted immediately, surprise melting into something warm, genuine. Happiness. She walked toward me without hesitation.

“You’re back from the lab?” she asked, concern flickering across her face as she hugged me tightly. Her arms wrapped around me like they belonged there. She pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “How was your treatment today? Hungry? Erica cooked some seafood pasta.”

I nodded, hugging her back. Her familiar scent filled my senses. But this time, under Mark’s gaze, my body stiffened. My arms didn’t tighten the way they should have. My heart didn’t race.

He knew. And so did I.