Chapter 1183

Ralph knew he couldn't reason with her; he could only listen. Hannah had grown up in a strange environment, quite unlike the average person. Since childhood, she'd been isolated, forced to live without friends, classmates, or family. Consequently, being isolated on an island was inconsequential to her. After years of solitude, she finally experienced a relationship, with Ralph. She wouldn't let him go; he was her anchor, a lifeline in a previously bottomless abyss. Before, she was driftwood; now, clinging to a small boat, she feared being lost again. This paranoia was suffocating Ralph.

Margaret was hospitalized, her age finally catching up with her. The cumulative stress had taken its toll. Only the full-time nurse, her servants, and Celine, her daily caregiver, were permitted to visit. Alexander, preoccupied with work, visited occasionally. She didn't want to bother the pregnant Lily, but Lily visited nonetheless. That afternoon, sunlight warmed the ward. Margaret squinted, drowsy. Then, she vaguely heard the ward door open and turned. The bright light obscured the visitor, but she discerned a figure. Her heart trembled. "Ralph?" she called out.

The man remained silent, standing at the doorway for a few seconds before slowly entering. Reaching her bedside, he stared at her with a conflicted expression. "Ralph… Where have you been? You've gotten so thin. You seem to have been through a lot these past few days," Margaret said, distressed. After all, she had raised him as her own son; her maternal love remained.

Seeing the old woman's inexplicable excitement, Ralph's eyes welled, his lips pursed. "I don't know how to address you," he began.

Margaret remained silent.

"Can I still call you Mom?" he asked again.

"Of course!" Her eyes immediately filled with tears. "As long as you still consider me your mother!"

"I'm not your son, not related to you at all. I have nothing to do with this family," he muttered, a wry smile playing on his lips. It felt absurd. Even after all this time, it felt like a recurring nightmare. He longed for the moment he'd wake, returning to being the youngest, favored son of the Russell family. But that was wishful thinking. There was no turning back.

"You're still my son, the one I've raised all these years. Though not biologically mine, after so long, it doesn't matter anymore," Margaret said, wiping away her tears. "At my age, I hope you can forgive me, Ralph. I did what I had to, for the sake of the entire Russell family. It was a last resort."

"For the sake of the Russell family, you threw me under the bus? Do you know how people see me now? Those who were beneath me are now walking all over me!" Ralph felt utterly wronged, his gaze conflicted. He loved and hated her simultaneously. How could a mother be so ruthless, devoid of even an ounce of love for the child she'd cared for decades? She was the one who'd pushed him to the brink.