Forced Marriage To The Psychotic Billionaire ( Book 2)

Chapter 11: The Clarity

Markris finally found the mansion at his mother's address and drove into it. He had spent the last thirty minutes driving around, trying to locate her. He wasn't quite sure why she was hiding. Maybe she didn't want his father to know she was back yet, which was quite unfortunate because he had told him already. He stepped out of his car and quickly shielded his eyes with his hands from the scorching sun. He looked around, but there was no one in sight.

It was an isolated building in the middle of nowhere, yet, there was no security in sight. He squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose as he turned his head around, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone. It was more or less akin to a graveyard, judging by how eerily silent it was.

His head went down to his phone in his hands as soon as a beep interrupted the creepy silence.

"Come in." The message read.

"Is this a trap?" He wondered as he made his way toward the front door. He took a moment to look around again before pushing the door open.

The living room was even emptier and more depressing than the house's exterior. Safe for some dark, ominous paintings on the wall and two long couches with stools beside them, it was empty. Far down to his right was a door that was closed. He decided to sit on one of the couches and wait for further instructions. He was making his way to the couch when his eyes caught the attention of a particular drawing. He moved closer to it and began to inspect it.

It started with a single flower, with the galaxy above, all painted in black. He realized it was a series as he looked at the next painting. The flower had grown some more, and beside it was a child. He became even more curious as he immersed himself in these paintings. The next was the picture of that flower, an inch long, and the child, a toddler.

On and on, the child and the flower grew. The final image was the boy, probably five to six years old, but there was a difference in the bud. His gaze intensified as he stared intensely at the flower. He hadn't realized it before, but the galaxy above was the shape of an eye which grew smaller as the painting progressed.

In the last picture, it became a hollow dark light. He felt a chilling sensation creeping up, and he shivered a bit. He stretched out his hands to touch the flower, a dull ache twisting in his chest.

"It's fascinating, right?" A voice said behind him, and he flinched, withdrawing his hands. He felt like a naughty child, caught with a piece of candy in his pant pocket. Slowly he turned around and saw the woman he knew as his mother only when he was a child, staring at him.

"It's something." He shrugged, his bravado returning. He returned his hands to his pocket and turned to face her properly. He couldn't believe she was alive. His mother he had yearned for many years ago, was alive. Unfortunately, he didn't care about her anymore.

"Come," She linked her hands with his, and he visibly flinched. She paused, staring at him sadly, but her smile returned with renewed determination. "Let's sit." She ignored his rigid body and dragged him to one of the couches.

"Yeah," He removed his hands from hers and shifted so there was enough space between them. "What did you mean by the message you sent?" He dived straight in, avoiding the small talk. He was prepared not to believe a word she said about his father. He had his reservations about the older man, sure, but she was not exactly a moral compass.

Why would he take the word of the woman that turned her back on their family over his father, who had always been there?

"Don't you want something to drink? Perhaps, eat?" A glint of hope appeared in her eyes as she searched his face. He still looked like her, thank goodness. No wonder his father hated him so much. If only he knew. If only he would stop being mad at her for a moment so that he could heed her warnings.