Chapter 173:
Makenna’s POV:
With Bryan’s presence casting a long shadow over the room, Jessica and the others dared not trouble me further. They could only glare with eyes sharp enough to cut through steel, their silent rage almost palpable. I shot them a cold, dismissive look before brushing past them, making my way straight to my room.
My room was a far cry from the grandeur of the rest of the villa—nestled away in the farthest corner, it was the smallest and most neglected nook of the house. It was sparsely furnished with only a few run-down pieces, a stark contrast to the opulent surroundings.
As I slowly pushed open the door, the sight within made my heart sink and tears well up. Despite the years I had spent here, they had never spared me a shred of dignity.
My room, though modest, had been turned upside down. Drawers were yanked open, their contents scattered like fallen leaves, and the mattress was upended. It was painfully clear that Jessica had ransacked the place in search of the necklace.
Who knew what else might have been pilfered by her or the others?
Seeing my childhood sanctuary in such disarray, I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer.
Sobbing quietly, I began to search for my mother’s keepsakes. I needed to take them with me; I couldn’t bear to leave them behind to suffer further desecration.
Just then, footsteps echoed outside the room. Bryan had followed me upstairs.
He surveyed the mess with a look of disdain, his voice dripping with contempt. “How can anyone live in a place like this? It’s so cramped and dilapidated.”
The insult stung, and I cursed Bryan silently in my mind. Even though I held a deep-seated resentment for everyone in this house, this room still held sentimental value. It was the place where I had grown up, the only connection I had left to my mother’s memory.
But Bryan’s unexpected help made me bite back my retort, and I focused on my search, not bothering to argue.
𝓢𝓮𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 ⲅ𝓪𝓁ⲛ𝓞𝓿𝒆𝓁𝓼⸳𝖼𝖔𝖒
In a dusty corner, I finally found the remnants of my mother’s belongings—several of her paintings. Sadly, they were cloaked in a thick layer of neglecting dust. The sight of these forgotten treasures made my tears flow even more freely.
Growing up without care or affection, these keepsakes were a poignant reminder of a time when someone had eagerly awaited my arrival. They reminded me that I had once been cherished.
I often daydreamed about what my life might have been if my mother had lived. Perhaps there would have been comfort in my pain, encouragement in my sadness.
Clutching my mother’s final keepsakes to my chest, I sank to the floor, unable to stem the torrent of tears. “Mom, if only you were still here…” I sobbed in a low voice.
I didn’t know how long I cried, but eventually, my body gave in to exhaustion. With no more tears left to shed, I gathered the paintings into my arms, stood up, and addressed Bryan with a voice as hollow as the emptiness I felt. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
It was only then that I noticed how hoarse my voice had become.
“Why are you so…” Bryan began, his irritation on the tip of his tongue, ready to unleash mockery. But something halted him mid-sentence. He hesitated, then closed his mouth.
Instead, he ruffled my hair roughly, his tone brusque as he said, “Alright, enough with the tears. You look a mess. Let’s get out of here already.”
