My Miser +A Storm & Silence Fanfiction+

24. Mr Ambrose POV

MOTHERLY LOVE

I stomped the floor with heavy footsteps, punishing it for what I couldn't punish a certain somebody. I had a difficult time coming to this place, after fifteen years, a thing I never thought I'd do ever, in my life. And now that I was here, one thing was for sure. Nothing had changed.

My mother was the same who showered me in her excessively toxic love though aging had added years to her face. Adaira, well she had been very little when I left but she hadn't changed. She was the same little sister that would always compel me into doing things for her. And he… He hadn't changed a bit, not that I cared, but he hadn't.

And that for some reason angered me. What happened fifteen years ago had been his fault, totally his fault. It happened because of his giant sized ego and his over excessive need to control everybody. Who was he to think that he had the right to make things wrong and even with the passing of time, not have the sense to set it right? Who was he to think that I, the richest man in the Britain Empire would wait for him while he enjoyed the liberty to give me an appointment? An appointment to his only son.

I had been unwilling to come to this place for the very reason. I despise him with everything in my being. I saw everyone I left, everything I left behind stand before me the moment I entered. Somewhere deep inside it filled my insides with warmth. But the gall of the man! He had been inside the house the entire time I came here. He knew I was here. He probably even knew it was his fault all along.

And in spite of all this, in spite of knowing everything, he refused to come see me. Refused to meet me eye to eye, even after what I'd done for him and this house all these years, being away.

I opened the windows to feel the cold winds rustling through the dark night to feel it in my bones.

Cold. Unwavered. Strong. That is what had made me into the man I was. This place held a part of my old self that was dead. Dead under the weight of the coldness that a eleven year old had to concede. And that is what he became.

I stopped in my motion, not wanting to waste my important energy on trying to break the floor and lay on the bed.

It made me think that he never did love me, ever as a child too. He never did consider me as his own. What I had become today was all on my hard work, my perseverance and my dedication. I had wasted thirty pounds, 21 shilling to come to this place only to be met with the egoistic bastard that somehow was related to me by blood! He can stuff his ego up…

Unknowingly, I made a strangling motion with my hands opening and closing convulsively, imagining him to be the one that I was choking to death.

‘Damn him! Damn him to hell!’ For some reason I was overwhelmed with all the memories resurfacing.

‘Who?’ That was the moment I felt a presence behind.

‘What the –’

Acting on my instinct and my anger and deeming it to be a hired assassin by somebody, I, in an instant had thrown myself around, pinning the person successfully under me. One of my hands encasing the wrists of the intruder and the other on the throat, a self defense that brought the most dangerous assassins to shame.

But no this was no dangerous assassin. Dangerous, yes. But not an assassin.

‘Mr Linton!’

How the hell did she manage to get inside? And why the hell hadn't I noticed?

‘Hello to you too, Sir’, the person croaked.

I eased the pressure of my hand on her throat, noticing the strain it was putting to her voice.