Mother's Interest

Mother's Interest
Alexander's Point of View:

As I stepped out of my car and onto the driveway, a familiar unease settled in. The iron gates, adorned with our family crest, seemed to loom over me, a reminder of the expectations that came with our name. I'd been avoiding this place for years, but duty had finally called me back.

The mansion's stone facade gleamed in the fading light, its windows like empty eyes staring back at me. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I began the long walk up the driveway. The trees surrounding the estate seemed to close in around me, casting long shadows that stretched and twisted in the dying light.

My family's wealth and influence had given me the world but at a costly price. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking into a trap, one that I'd been trying to escape for years.

“Just do it!” I motivated myself, my hand lingering on the door knob. I wanted to push the door open, but another side of me was scared, frightened about the dread that lay behind the doors.

I didn't actually grow up with my parents. The minute I was born, my mother sent me to my grandparent's villa. According to her, that was one of her family's cultures, but I knew she was just trying to get rid of me.

I was six years old when my parents came to pick me up from my grandparents' villa. It was obvious by the look in their eyes that they didn't want to. They had forgotten about me, but because the media kept asking for my picture, they decided to take me back in.

I lived together with my parents for ten years, but those were the worst memories of my childhood. We lived like strangers. My father was never around, always traveling to different countries for meetings. As for my mother, she just wasn't interested in taking care of her child. On numerous occasions, she would tell me that having a child was the worst decision she ever made.

My mother, Lady Hamilton, was a lawyer, a very successful one in her career, so she always received piles of documents, which she used to avoid seeing me.

My mother and father couldn't look each other in the eyes. From what I heard, after my mother caught my father sleeping with one of his business partners, the love she had for him disappeared. The only reason why she was still in a relationship with him was because of our family name. My mother stayed to protect her legacy, and my father was protecting his name.

“A good name is more important than any image!” That was my father's slogan to me whenever he had the opportunity to meet me.

I knew the reverse was the case, “one's image is more priceless than one's name.” But I never argued with him, because even if I did, my father would never listen to me.

“Alexander Hamilton-Rodriguez, I need to speak with you! Come to the house this minute!” My mother's message rang in my head, but I just couldn't explain why I honored her and came.

I stood there for a while, my hand on the doorknob, hesitating. Why had I come? I knew my mother wouldn't have bothered to show up if the situation were reversed. She wouldn't even pick up my call if I told her I was dying. She only cared about two thing: the family name and her legacy.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The familiar sight of our opulent foyer greeted me, but it felt cold and unwelcoming. I walked through the hallway, my footsteps echoing off the marble floor.

“Young Master!” Two of my parent's workers bowed to greet me, and I flashed them a polite smile.

As I entered the living room, I saw my mother sitting on the couch, her eyes fixed on the file in her hand. She looked...different. Her expression was tense, and her eyes seemed to bore into the file. She didn't realize I was there, or maybe she did but just decided not to acknowledge my presence.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence, and my mother's eyes snapped up to meet mine. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the tension between us palpable.

"Alexander," she finally said, her voice firm but controlled. "Thank you for coming."

I nodded, taking a seat in the armchair opposite her. "What is it, Mother?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

My mother's eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing. "I've received some...disturbing news," she said, with a low and menacing tone. "News that could potentially ruin our family's reputation."

My heart sank, and I felt a cold dread creeping up my spine. How had she found out? And what did she plan to do about it?

I raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. "What kind of news?" I asked, trying to keep my anxiousness in check.

My hands began to shiver, as I thought of the worst scenarios. “Has she found out about Riley and I? Does she know that Quinoa is pregnant?” I wondered, my head reeling with a lot of questions.

My mother didn't reply to my questions at once, instead, she turned to face the file.

She pulled out a photo from the file and slid it across the table towards me. I hesitated for a moment before picking it up, my heart racing with anticipation.

The photo showed my father and a little boy together. But it was the caption that made my blood run cold: "The secret son of CEO Rodriguez and his mistress."

I felt a wave of panic wash over me. Has the news spread so soon? Did my father carry out his threats so quickly?

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. The photo and caption seemed to scream at me, accusing me that it was all my fault.

"It seems your father's little secret is out in the open," my mother said, her voice dripping with venom.

I tried to process what I was seeing, but my mind was racing. I had thought I still had time to contact Quinoa, but since the secret was out, it meant I would start competing with a total stranger for my family's company.

My mother's phone rang, shrill and loud in the silence. She answered it, her expression growing darker with each passing moment. After she cut the call, she sighed softly.

“That's the private investigator I hired. She still hasn't found the bastard son, but she is on to something,” My mother informed me with a grimace.

I arched my brows, wondering the reason for her sudden interest in the company.

“Why are you doing this, Mother? You've never been interested in the company,” I asked her curiously. A part of me was hoping she would say that she was trying to fight for my birthright, but another side knew she was never going to say that.

“Hmm,” My mother smiled, there was nothing friendly about her smile. It was menacing, and there were a lot of secrets beneath it. “Let's just say I am also on to something. Your father can't always eat his cake and have it, it's high time I show him who is in charge,” she replied.

I faked a smile, and my eyes dropped in disappointment. “It's always about you and father, isn't it?” I muttered under my breath.

My mother heard what I said, but chose to act oblivious. “Quinoa called, she said she was around. She also said she had some good news for me,’’ My mother informed me.

I furrowed my brows, feigning ignorance. “Huh-uh, is that so?”

My mother stood up, moving towards me slowly. “I still don't understand the news regarding you and the Burrito's daughter, but I will push it aside, on the note that it is just rumours. Make sure you delete it from the internet today, I don't want Quinoa to find out about it,” she instructed with a hoarse voice.

I felt compelled to obey her every order, and I bowed submissively. “Of course, mother!”

My mother looked impressed with herself, and she smiled. “Good. Also don't forget to join us for dinner, I have invited Quinoa.” She informed me.

I wanted to refuse, but another thought popped up in my head, and I released it. “Mother, if you find Father's secret son, what are you going to do?” I asked with raised brows.

My mother smiled, picked up the picture she had earlier given me, and folded it. “I will spare you the details, son. I'm sure you have other things to worry about,” she replied. I wanted to ask another question, but before I could, she walked out of the room.

I sat still, thinking about what to do with the information I had gathered. I didn't know if I could still use Quinoa. Also, since my mother has joined the battle for the family's company. I couldn't help but wonder if she was my friend or foe.

“He is closer to us than we can ever imagine,” I murmured thoughtfully as the image of the bastard son flashed in my head. He looked familiar, but I was unable to recall where I had met him.