Chapter 360
Ana’s voice was relentless, sharp as a blade cutting through the tension. “I’ll print as many copies as you throw away. I’m ready to go all the way with you,” she declared fiercely.
Tyler paused, turning his head with a mocking scoff. “Sure,” he sneered, “shall we let everyone know your own marriage is falling apart too?”
Without warning, Ana grabbed a vase from the table and hurled it toward him. “Tyler! I’m your mother!” she shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of years of frustration.
At last, she snapped. Her face drained of color, her hands trembled violently.
“I hope we can at least keep some decency between mother and son,” she added bitterly.
The proud, arrogant Ana—the woman who always carried herself with icy superiority—crumbled right before their eyes. Her composure shattered, replaced by the raw bitterness of a middle-aged woman beaten down by life.
Olivia, standing upstairs, was stunned. She stared blankly at the broken vase lying in shards on the floor.
Tyler paid no mind to Ana’s sudden vulnerability or Olivia’s presence. He strode past her without a glance and disappeared upstairs.
Ana let out a bitter scoff. “Listen to me, Tyler,” she spat. “I’ll make sure you pay for all the pain you’ve put me through. And that sickly woman—I’ll make sure she suffers right alongside you.”
Her voice echoed through the entire living room, dripping with venom and despair.
Olivia listened quietly, sensing the cunning and deep bitterness behind Ana’s words—bitterness born from dashed hopes and a life full of regrets.
For a moment, she was taken aback by how pitiful Ana looked in that broken moment.
Though she should have remained upstairs, a sudden impulse drove Olivia down the stairs.
“Mom…” she called gently.
Ana’s eyes blazed with anger. “Why are you down here? Go back upstairs!” she snapped fiercely, desperate to hide her vulnerability.
But Olivia didn’t flinch. Calmly, she picked up a rag from the table and began gathering the shattered pieces on the floor.
At the sight of Olivia quietly cleaning up, Ana’s fierce glare softened, just a little.
Only then did the maids, who had been frozen in place, begin to crouch and help with the cleanup.
Slowly, the fierce fire in Ana’s eyes gave way to a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.
About ten minutes later, Olivia returned upstairs.
As she neared her room, Tyler stood there, his cold eyes fixed on her.
“Are you kissing her *ss?” he asked bluntly.
For a moment, Olivia was stunned by his harsh words. She flushed with a mix of embarrassment and disbelief that he could think so poorly of her.
“No,” she said softly, voice trembling—not from shyness but from the humiliation that lingered.
Tyler wasn’t truly blaming her; it was anger speaking through him.
Without another word, he turned and left.
“Tyler,” Olivia called after him, summoning unexpected courage, “she’s your mother. You shouldn’t treat her like that. She looks so pitiful.”
Tyler froze, turning back with a harsh, guarded expression. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” he snapped.