Sitting in the chair, one leg draped over the other, Jedrick eyed his mother intently as she lay on the bed.
She had been silent ever since Ben brought her here. What surprised him, though, was her desperate plea—to take her to her son.
"You've been nothing but a troublemaker, Mother. And yet, even if I hate you..." His voice dripped with venom, sharp and bitter. "...I still can't bring myself to kill you."
Valeria flinched, her gaze finally flickering toward him.
She sat curled up on the bed, knees drawn to her chest, her fingers fidgeting nervously—just like always. But there was something disturbingly vacant in her expression. How had she even managed to convince Ben?
"T-Take me to my son," she muttered, her eyes staring off into the distance, never quite meeting his.
Jedrick's brows furrowed in confusion. She kept repeating the same thing, over and over, and something in his chest twisted.
