Chapter 211

Polly spun around, startled. She hadn't expected Clifford to come back downstairs so soon. She quickly composed herself and said sternly, "Is that any way to greet your mother? You walk in and just demand to know where 'she' is? Who are you talking about? This house is full of people."

Clifford's gaze swept over his mother and sister. "Where is Latisha?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low.

“Latisha, Latisha, that's all you ever say! Have you forgotten you even have a mother?"

Clifford's jaw tightened. He had no time for Polly's games and turned to walk out of the house.

"You stop right there!" Polly's voice rang out from behind him.

Clifford didn't even break his stride.

Furious, Polly raised her voice, lacing it with a familiar threat. “Clifford, I said, stop!”

Only the two of them understood the weight behind those words. This time, Clifford paused, his back still to her.

Polly rushed to stand in front of him, forced to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. “Clifford, I already know about the company. Your dad called you back because of this crisis, didn't he?"

Clifford's gaze shifted to her face. "And?"

His cold indifference infuriated her. She lowered her voice. "Clifford, I'm your mother. Would I ever do anything to harm you?"

He remained silent.

"Renata told me you helped her sell her shares," Polly continued. "If I'm not

mistaken, those shares are in your possession now, correct?"

Clifford's eyes narrowed slightly, waiting for her to get to the point.

"I don't know what you're planning," Polly said, "but if you agree to divorce that mute, I will give you my shares."

At this, Clifford let out a short, sharp laugh.

Polly took his taugh as a sign of agreement. "She's just a mute! The Lambert family has fed and clothed her for years; we've been more than generous. There's no need to sacrifice your entire future for her. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"So, your point is, you'll only give me the shares if I divorce Latisha?"

"Of course. My son will not marry a mute. Divorce her, and I wouldn't even care if you brought that Yesenia girl home!"

"Mom," Clifford said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Do you really think I'm still a child?"

Polly froze Clifford's gaze was like ice, boring into her with a chilling indifference that made her heart seize. They were mother and son, but the way he looked at her was colder than a stranger's glance.

With that one question hanging in the air, he turned and walked away without looking back.

Polly's nails dug deep into her palms. She stared at his tall,

imposing back, a back that now towered over her. She couldn't remember when it had happened, ✨ when she had started having to look up at him.

In that moment, she finally realized it: he had grown up. He no longer needed to

obey her. He was no longer her compliant, dutiful son.

A sharp pain lanced through Polly's chest. She clutched at her heart, stumbling, and

a nearby maid had to rush to support her.

"I was only doing it for his own good,” she choked out, her voice filled with a mixture

of grief and bitter resentment. "How could he treat me like this?"

"Ma'am... he's almost thirty years old," the maid said softly. "If you keep trying to control every aspect of his life, he's bound to push back."

Clifford found Latisha in the courtyard. She was being held down by two maids, forced to kneel, her legs covered in a horrifying canvas of red.