I Slept with My Boss and Ran Away

“What crime is that? Wasn’t it always like this? If you can’t find a wife, you buy one,” Mr. Thatcher declared righteously. “Your mother was brought here for three thousand dollars. Without her, there would be no you. You ungrateful brat, how dare you lecture me?”

These words shattered Justin’s entire worldview once again.

His mother had been sold to his father.

Justin’s face went through a spectrum of emotions from disbelief to horror.

At some point, Mrs. Thatcher appeared at the doorway of the master bedroom. This woman, usually so honest and quiet, known only for her household duties and taking care of Tristan, was indeed sold to his father.

Justin had always thought that even if his parents weren’t in love, they should have been matched by something like a go-between, just managing life together. He never imagined it could be like this.

His voice trembling, Justin asked, “… Mom, is what Dad’s saying true?”

Mrs. Thatcher clenched her fists, her face, weathered with years, flashed with unspeakable pain and numbness. “Yes.”

The moment Mrs. Thatcher lowered her head in admission, Justin felt as if his beliefs had crumbled.

He was a lawyer, but his father was a criminal.

He was the son of a criminal.

The product of a victim and a human trafficker.

A cough from Tristan echoed through the oppressive silence of the house.

Justin’s eyes shifted back and forth between his mother and father, his expression cracking.

Mrs. Thatcher timidly interjected, “Ainsley, don’t argue with your dad. Gemma is asleep; don’t wake her up. Maybe your dad is right. The city is too stressful; you’ve lost weight. It might be good to go back to the village. You’re at the age to marry, and once we’re home, I can find you a girl. We can live a quiet life.”

“Mom…” Justin felt a lump in his throat, unable to speak, seeing the numb acceptance in his mother’s face.

Mr. Thatcher slapped the table, assuming the authoritative role of the head of the family, and declared forcefully, “That’s settled then, Ainsley. Quit your job, sell the apartment, we’re going back.”

“The apartment can’t be sold,” Justin countered, his image of his father collapsing in that instant, “I’m not quitting. My roots are here.”

“You ungrateful fool, what nonsense are you talking?” Mr. Thatcher, enraged, picked up a stool and hurled it at Justin’s back.

Caught off guard, Justin did not dodge; he didn’t even think to. He had never expected his father to attack him so ruthlessly.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in his heart.

For the first time, Justin saw the true face of Mr. Thatcher: volatile, domineering, unreasonable, a criminal.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Thatcher cried out in shock, instinctively rushing to defend, “Ainsley, does it hurt?”NôvelDrama.Org is the owner.

“This disobedient fool needs to be taught a lesson,” Mr. Thatcher, dropping the stool, seethed with anger. “I’ve always said, he’s an ingrate, we can’t trust him. He didn’t grow up under our care, how could he possibly care about his parents? You shouldn’t have bothered having him. Fine, Ainsley Thatcher, you don’t have to come back. If you want to stay here and develop, stay, but the apartment must be sold. The money will buy us a villa back home. Providing for us in our old age is your duty.”

Mr. Thatcher’s intentions were clear: he was only after the money, his son’s presence was irrelevant.

Justin didn’t respond to Mrs. Thatcher’s concern or Mr. Thatcher’s words. Pain coursed through his back as he stared at his parents for several seconds, then turned and left without a word.

The sudden upheaval left him struggling to cope.

“Ainsley, Ainsley!” Mrs. Thatcher called after him twice, then turned to scold Mr. Thatcher, “Why did you do that? Couldn’t you have just talked to him?”

“What do women know? You don’t teach them a lesson, and how will they ever learn?” Mr. Thatcher didn’t think he was wrong.

Meanwhile, Tristan, inside the room, remained indifferent to everything happening outside.