The meeting ended just as lunchtime approached. Aaron was about to unpack his lunch, prepared by Keeley, when his secretary called.

"Mr. Hale, Mrs. Hale is here to see you."

Keeley? She'd never visited the office before. Still, it would be nice to see her.

"Send her in. Thank you."

The door opened, revealing his mother instead of his wife. The room's temperature plummeted. He hadn't seen Roslyn since Lacy Knighton's birthday party over a year ago. He'd instantly assumed the secretary meant Keeley. He'd nearly forgotten about the other Mrs. Hale in New York—the one he desperately wanted to avoid.

"I thought you were my wife," he said icily. "If I'd known it was you, I wouldn't have let you in. What are you doing here, Mother?"

Roslyn wore a royal blue pencil dress, sapphire drop earrings, and a diamond tennis bracelet. Her posture was impeccable, her hair perfectly styled, yet a crack marred her usual composure.

"…I wanted to see how you were doing. It's been a while."

"So you finally decided to contact your only child," he said dryly. "I'm doing great. You should leave now."

Her lip trembled—more emotion than he'd seen in two lifetimes. His sympathy remained unswayed; he had no feelings left for his mother.

"Aaron, please. Your father… I've lost everything. My friends abandoned me. Our reputation is in ruins. Can't you help? If you spoke up, things would return to normal," she pleaded.

Unbelievable! Why would he help her or Alistair? They deserved their fate. Everything they cared about, aside from their wealth, was gone. They were lucky he'd left them even that.

"I will do no such thing. This is exactly what you both deserve," he said loftily, waving her away.

"Aaron, I am your mother! Does that mean nothing to you?"

His eyes hardened. "You may have given birth to me, but you are no mother of mine. You never told me you loved me. You handed me off to countless nannies. You only spoke to me when you wanted something. You were barely less demanding than your worthless husband. You never respected me as an individual, only as your tool, just as he did. Clearly, I mean nothing to you as a son, so why shouldn't I feel the same about you as a mother?"

He finished coldly, his gaze unwavering. She visibly shrank. After thirty years with Alistair Hale, one would think she'd be immune to ice, but she had always been weak.

"Is this because we wanted you to marry Lacy Knighton?" she asked weakly. "You got what you wanted; why can't you show a little mercy?"

Aaron was furious. Mercy? Had she ever shown Keeley mercy, constantly belittling her and extinguishing her joy? Had her husband ever shown mercy, plotting to kill his own grandchild?

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. His parents were behind him now; he didn't have to endure this.

"Yes, I got what I wanted after twenty-five years as your and Father's puppet." (It had been much longer, but she wouldn't understand the anguish they'd inflicted over two lifetimes.)

"You asked how I was doing… but not about my wife or children," he said derisively. "You're always the same—prioritizing status and money. You never cared about my happiness, only how I could benefit you.

Children aren't tools. They're individuals with their own hopes, dreams, and talents. My children will have my full support to pursue their passions. My wife is a far better mother than you could ever dream of being. Keep that in mind next time you ask for favors. I owe you nothing. Have a nice life."

He pressed a button, calling his secretary. "Please have security escort Mrs. Hale out. She's no longer welcome here."

"Yes, Mr. Hale," she replied meekly.

Roslyn, shaking with rage, pointed at him. "That woman ruined you!"

He stood, slamming his fists on the desk. "That woman is named Keeley, and she's the best thing that ever happened to me. You and Father are the ones who tried to ruin me. Goodbye, Mother."

Two security guards arrived, escorting her out. Aaron slumped back, sighing heavily. He hated dealing with his parents. Hopefully, this was the end of it.

It was astonishing that Roslyn still defended Alistair after everything he'd done. He was the reason the once-proud Hale name was tarnished, the reason her friends ostracized her. Aaron had been right not to feel sorry for her. She wasn't a victim, but a perpetrator in a cycle spanning generations.

Wealth wasn't the problem; people like Cameron, who'd become wealthy later in life, remained humble. The problem was the mentality that wealth made one superior.

High society was appalling, but Aaron wouldn't be the one to bring it down. It wasn't his problem. He'd escaped, happier than he'd ever thought possible. The promotional material for NovelFire.net has been removed.