Chapter 1056

Teresa called Amy. “I need to stay at the hospital tonight,” she said, her voice heavy with fatigue. “If Mike wakes up and asks, please explain where I am.”

In Nusridge, it was early morning. Jonathan’s phone rang, Michael’s name illuminating the screen. Jonathan locked eyes with Irene across the breakfast table. “Answer it. Tell him I’m in the bathroom.”

‘Let her feel the sting,’ he thought coldly. ‘Hear them, yet be utterly powerless to reach them.’

Irene picked up the phone, greeted by Michael’s eager shout. “Mr. Daddy Lime!”

“Mike, your dad’s just stepped into the bathroom,” Irene said, her eyes lifting warily to Jonathan’s imposing presence.

“Grandma!” Michael exclaimed, instantly recognizing her voice. “Tell Dad, Felix got sick. Mom took him to the hospital. Please, please ask Dad to come home? I hate seeing Mom so tired.”

The call was on speakerphone. Jonathan’s icy composure shattered. Concern flashed across his face. He wrenched the phone from Irene’s hand. “Mike? What happened? Is Felix okay?”

“Dad!” Michael burst into tears at the sound of Jonathan’s voice. “Felix is sick. He has a fever. Mom said she’s staying at the hospital with him tonight. She’s so tired, Dad. Please come home soon?”

Jonathan clenched his fists. “Alright, I got it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The line went dead. Any pretense of calm shattered. Jonathan was a live wire of pent-up urgency, the need to move now, overwhelming any thought of restraint.

Irene seized the opening. “Go. Fetch them. Bring my grandchildren here. I’ll care for them.”

Jonathan fixed her with a razor-sharp glare. “Dream on. If that’s the plan, I’m not moving an inch.”

Irene recoiled, stunned. ‘What game is this? The children suffer with her! Why wouldn’t he bring them here?’ she wondered.

Jonathan’s voice dropped, dangerously low. “You want me to go back? Fine. Draw up a contract. State irrevocably that you relinquish any claim to interfere in my life. State that you will not return to the country without my permission.

“Sign it. My lawyer arrives within the hour to witness it and enact the travel ban.”

“Never!” Irene hissed. “I am your mother! How dare you treat me like an enemy? Bound by legal chains? A ban? Imprisoning me here? Severing me from home? Unthinkable!”

Jonathan shrugged, a glacial dismissal. “Your choice. No contract? I stay. One child sobbing himself ill, the other fevered. You bear witness. We’ll settle into this routine – me, the bitter specter haunting your home; you, the jailor of your own son. We persist… until you break.”

“You-!” Irene choked out, teeth grinding. She speared him with a venomous glare. “Jonathan Lynn,” she spat, “your heart is ice.”

Jonathan sneered. “Ice is warmer than the emptiness in yours! Look at me! Who forged this? Look at our shattered families! Who shattered them?”

He advanced a step, each word a blow. “A son weeping for his father. An infant burning with fever. Their mother stretched beyond endurance. Whose fault? Answer me!”

Irene stood paralyzed, speechless.

“You’re heartless. Am I wrong?” Jonathan pressed, his voice arctic. “You don’t care about your grandsons.”

“Enough! How dare you!” Irene shrieked. Her composure shattered. She collapsed, crouching on the floor, tears streaming.

Jonathan stood immovable, a statue of cold resolve. The terms were absolute: her signature, or eternal stalemate. Her victory fantasy – him delivering the children into her arms – was unthinkable. He offered no solace, no concession. He merely waited, the crushing weight of the impasse settling upon her.

Silence stretched, thick and oppressive. Time lost meaning. Finally, Irene lifted a trembling hand.