I Slept with My Boss and Ran Away

Meredith’s gaze was fixed on Fiona, but Fiona did not notice her. Fiona hailed a cab by the roadside and left. Meredith was curious why Fiona was not at the factory at this time and what brought her here, especially since the cafe across the street was known for its high prices.

“What would you like to drink?” Grandma Sterling asked, looking at the menu after ordering herself a glass of blackcurrant juice.

The old lady was indeed quite cool. She had a fondness for cheese fondue and barbecue, even enjoying these at roadside bars.

Having just finished filming a promotional video, Grandma Sterling had insisted on taking Meredith out shopping and had been captivated by the sight of this bar.

Meredith turned her attention back and told the tea shop staff, “I’ll have a watermelon juice, please.”

Soon, the staff had prepared the drinks, and Grandma Sterling took a sip, visibly pleased. “This is the flavor I was looking for, delicious. Stella is too strict with me, she doesn’t let me drink these. Charlotte, we really should come out more often.”

“Grandma, you can’t drink it too often, they add sugar, and it’s too sweet for you,” Meredith cautioned. “Let’s go inside and look around.”

Meredith spent the day accompanying Grandma Sterling. Meanwhile, Terrence Sterling had sent people to investigate Mr. Thatcher’s old home, and they had gathered evidence about Mr. Thatcher selling his children. Now, they were just waiting on Mrs. Thatcher’s side of the story.

As Meredith expected, Justin couldn’t resist and went to find Mrs. Thatcher. Wearing a mask, he didn’t dare to return home openly but instead waited near the entrance of an apartment building. When Mrs. Thatcher went to pick up Gemma from school, he appeared before her. “Mom.”

His call startled Mrs. Thatcher.

Justin removed his mask. “It’s me.”

“Ainsley,” Mrs. Thatcher responded in shock, “why didn’t you come home?”

After saying this, she realized how silly the question was. Under such circumstances, just how could Justin go back home? Quickly putting his mask back on, Justin urged, “Mom, let’s go somewhere else to talk.”

At this point, Justin trusted Mrs. Thatcher more than anyone else in that family. To be precise, he felt sympathy for her; she wasn’t like the harsh Mr. Thatcher and Tristan.

Following Justin to a tree-lined path, Mrs. Thatcher said, “Ainsley, you must have been suffering.”

“Mom, do you believe I’m innocent? You know I’m innocent, right?”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

Mrs. Thatcher remained silent, her head bowed in tacit agreement. She knew the truth better than anyone.

Her silence pained Justin. He looked at the aging Mrs. Thatcher and said bitterly, “Mom, I need to know, why didn’t you stop him when Dad sold me? If you didn’t want me, why bring me into this world? Why stay silent when Dad and my brother slandered me?”

He couldn’t understand how parents could be unloving towards their own children.

Mrs. Thatcher’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she started crying without a word.

“Mom,” Justin continued painfully, “say something. Do you know what they are saying about me online? Have I not been good to you? Why just me? We are both your sons, why does my brother receive your love, and I do not?”

“Ainsley, Ainsley…” Mrs. Thatcher sobbed uncontrollably, her aged hands trembling as she gestured feebly, “Stop, stop it.”

Unable to face Justin, she felt ashamed of her failures as a mother. Seeing Mrs. Thatcher crying, Justin’s eyes also filled with tears.

Justin had harbored these grievances for so long, and Mrs. Thatcher had been suppressing her own for decades, accustomed to silence. Mr. Thatcher had enslaved her both physically and mentally.

“Mom,” Justin said, taking hold of Mrs. Thatcher’s shoulders, “you don’t belong there, you and Dad were never truly in love, you were forced. Why won’t you choose for yourself just once? I’m behind you, don’t be afraid.”

These words greatly encouraged Mrs. Thatcher. Over the years, Tristan and Mr. Thatcher had been no different; even when Mr. Thatcher hit her, Tristan, her own son, just watched indifferently.

For decades, Mrs. Thatcher had endured countless beatings, subdued by Mr. Thatcher’s domination. Today, finally, her son was there to support her.

Mrs. Thatcher’s lips quivered with emotion and joy. “Ainsley, I’m so sorry,” she said through tears, looking at Justin. “Mom, I’m sorry. Your friend told me you were selling your blood, working part-time to the point of getting yourself in the hospital. My child, why are you just such a fool?”