Debora, whose theatrics was over, stood with a hand roughly brushing her ruined makeup from her face. She was sniffling, but Rafale knew it was fake. Paul was fainthearted compared to the two. And that was the main reason his mother easily fooled him.
"Our son is brainwashed by some tramps skirts, Paul! He is even saying that he hates me!"
Stupefied by his wife's grievous tone of voice, Paul frowned. Rafale would have clapped if he was an onlooker at his mother's flawless acting. Stretching his hands out, he had not the patience or time for his mother's sorry theatrics.
"Hand over the ring before you leave, mother."
With widened eyes, as Rafale had known the ring was in her possession, Debora retrieved it from her pocket. Smirking, she moved towards the porch. Sensing her evil action, Rafale followed her with a dark expression on his face. Paul had remained standing shocked and confused. Knowing that Paul could not see her because of the flattering curtains, she threw the ring over the barrister without remorse.
"What ring, Rafale? What ring? The girl is gone. It is no longer needed. Stop living in the past."
Bitterly laughing, Rafale rushed towards the barrister to watch the ring falling into the large swimming pool below. Brushing her two hands together as if dusting invisible particles from the surface, Debora was satisfied. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, when it had only sunk to the bottom of the pool, Rafale's back grew tense when his mother's screaming was gnawing into his skull like shattered glass.
"Are you looking for it, Rafale?! Do you love that tramp?! Argh, why are you doing this to me! Me out of all people?! Haven't I spoiled you enough?!"
Turning in her direction, he drew his face close to her ears.
"If you want Paul to know your darker side, I would caution you to keep on flapping your gums, mother. Or has he already found out since he kicked you out once?"
Gripping the barrister and allowing the fluttering and persuasive curtains to slap her in the face, Debora's face turned as white as a sheet. She wobbled and collapsed to the floor, for she had forgotten herself. That caused Paul to jump to action as he rushed from inside to her side.
They hadn't spoken ever since she returned, but he still cared for the heartless woman. Stepping away from them, Rafale glanced in Paul's direction, who was at the advantage of helping the partial and filial Debora from the ground.
"What happened?"
Paul questioned with raised eyebrows.
Rafale sighed.
His mother was like a witch who had bewitched an innocent human—Paul Wulfric.
"This is very complicated to explain."
He muttered before walking back into the room.
Grabbing the car key from his suit jacket pocket on the bed, he walked out of the room. However, Debora would not let him. Flying out of Paul's arms, she rushed over to grab onto his feet, but Paul interceded by catching onto her person. Soon, the bedroom door slamming alerted that Rafale had left.
Shaking the suddenly angry and sobbing Debora with a vengeance, as if to distort the organs in her body, Paul snapped.
"What is happening here, Debora?! Where is Rafale going?!"
"Let me go! I won't have my son returning to that woman!"
With empty eyes filled with bitter rage, Debora suddenly pushed Paul away from her body in an attempt to run behind Rafale.
However, his firm and tight grip around her wrist prevented such actions. He roughly pulled her and forced her to sit on the cedar chest. His eyes were burning with unleashed anger, while his hands formed fists near her side as he had leaned forward to invade her face.
"Let me tell you something, Debora Wulfric. I have been tolerating your insolence for far too long. The Wulfric Mansion is my house. Whatever I say goes, but you, you love to disobey my rules. And the secrets you've been keeping have made it worse! You killed my sister and her husband! You have admitted to wanting to kill Sheena too! Why haven't I send Mrs. Debora Wulfric, aka Regina, off to an asylum? Did you ever ask yourself that question? It seems not if you are still so stubborn."
Silenced, as she felt her entire body shaking, Debora's tears fell silently down her cheeks to escape through the collar of her shirt. Leaning away from her, as she had grown calm, Paul raised an accusatory finger in her face, for he was cross—especially towards the sudden rise of her grotesque attitude.
"I am going to see where Rafale went. If you move from this spot, Debora, I will not hesitate to kick you out of the house and my life for good this time around. I want to know everything that you've been doing behind my back, and if you don't tell me, say goodbye to your father's company and everything your family owns. Do you understand?"
Biting her lip, when her husband's threats were bringing a toll of depression over her, Debora sharply nodded. Huffing, as she had embarrassingly placed her head down, Paul left the room.
Spotting Rafale, making his way towards the front doors, as soon as he had exited the elevator, Paul sharply called as he rushed down the stairs two at a time.
"Rafale, wait!"
Pausing in his steps, Rafale slowly turned to face him with his wet hands shoved in his pockets. Glancing at the glistening and drenched clothes sticking against his body like a second glove, Paul frowned. He stared quite deeply and uncomfortably in Rafale's eyes for any sign of eternal and emotional pain.
"Are you okay?"
"That's surprising words coming from you, Paul."
The iron mask adorning Rafale's face fell due to his father's sentimental statement. Though, his facial expression remained neutral because he was programmed to show no feelings by his mother. The conversation shared between he and his mother had forced such a burden on his cracked heart. Rafale squeezed his hands into tight fists in his pocket.
"Well?"
"I'm fine. I just needed some fresh air."
Examining him from head to toe again, as a pool of water was forming at his feet, Paul suddenly alerted a silently standing maid in the far corner of the room to fetch him a towel.
"That is some fine fresh air that you've gone for, son."
Scratching behind his head, as he found it pretty awkward speaking to his father after his waterworks three months ago, Rafale cleared his throat to decrease the embarrassment.
"I'm sorry for how I treated you earlier. I'm just stressed—frustrated."
"Is it because of your mother?"
Assertively questioning, as he retrieved a clean towel, which the obedient maid had brought on a golden tray, Paul gave it to Rafale, who happily accepted it with a dry and half-hearted laugh.
"Yes, she is a major part of my stress, but the other factors are my ex-wife and my children. I do not know what to do."
Eyes closed, Paul heaved a tired sigh.
"Sheena is..."
Curtly interjecting, Rafale sighed.
"I am tired of blaming others for my actions."
Nodding his head, as he had finally understood something, Paul dismissed the eavesdropping maid presence, who was standing a safe distance from them.
"I see. Then my advice to you: seek forgiveness from Sheena."
Humming, Rafale roughly passed the towel through his recently cut hair. His heart burned with impending hate directed to himself. He was just a fool back then.
He placed it around his neck.
"I am not a fool Rafale."
Passing a hand through his hair, Rafale dryly chuckled.
"I never said anything."
Folding his arms on top of his chest, Paul scoffed.
"Do you think I did not hear what you and your mother were discussing?"
He bristled. He hadn't anticipated this.
"How much did you hear?"
His eyebrow twitched.
The possibility of Paul finding out he was not his son would upset him.
"How you mistreat your mother. I—I was shocked that I froze before entering the room. When I did, she was begging you for forgiveness. I thought, for the past months, that you would change your attitude towards her, Rafale. However, on the other hand, Debora has been acting strangely. It is like she is a different woman."
Rafale's slightly sagged when it was not the case he thought of, but he was still alert.
"She is a different woman. Always, have been, and always will be. My mother, your wife, is dangerous, Paul. I have first-hand experience of that fact. Be careful of her. She tends to lie dryer than the desert."
Glowering, Paul walked to stand closer to Rafale.
He placed his hands on Rafale's shoulders with widened eyes. He was taken aback by his statement.
"What did your mother do to you that you speak so coldly about her, Rafale?"
Rafale pushed his father's hands from his shoulders.
He had a clear view of his mother's real intention. Her charade earlier was to hide her true agenda from Paul.
"I do not think you could stomach whatever I tell you about your wife, but know this. That woman is not my mother. She hasn't been and never will be. She stopped being my mother twenty years ago."
Shocked by his words, Paul took a measured step back.
"Why do you hate your mother so much?"
Rafale's entire face suddenly darkened.
"'Why do I hate my mother?' I wish I could answer with a simple answer."
Shaking his head, he took two steps back.
"No, Paul, I do not hate her."
"Then why are you treating her like that?"
Ignoring his question, Rafale growled with eyes burning with intense rage.
"I despise Debora Regina Wulfric with every bone in my body."
Rafale swiftly turned around to make his way towards the front doors.
"Rafale, where are you going?!"
Faltering, when his father had called, Rafale bowed his head to gaze at his shaking hands. Refusing to turn around, he dismissively muttered loud enough for the confused man to hear.
"I will be in one of my hotels. If you need me, contact me through my secretary."
Rafale slightly turned his head on a side, where he coincidentally caught the familiar and espying maid presence hiding between the pillars near the entrance of the left hallway.
"And, don't tell Debora about my whereabouts. I cannot stomach the sight of her."
Snapping, he sent a murderous glare in the maid's direction.
She quickly escaped from his line of vision. Soon, the message of his departure will reach his mother's ears.
Satisfied with that outcome, he resumed his travel to the front doors.
