“But I do,” she said, her voice cracking. “I raised him better than this. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
I squeezed her hands gently. “You were the only one who treated me like family. You were kind when no one else was.”
Her expression softened as she nodded. “Then let me help you now. If you’re leaving him for good, I’ll stand by you. I’ll help you pack, make sure you’re safe.”
Her words struck deeper than I expected. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed someone on my side.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “But… are you sure? He’s still your son.”
Beatrice looked away, pain flickering across her face. “He may be my son,” she said quietly, “but the man he’s become… I barely recognize him anymore.”
Silence settled between us. Then she stood, grabbing her coat. “Come on. Let’s go back. I’ll speak to him myself. And to that girl.”
“Sabine,” I muttered, bitterness lacing her name.
“Yes,” Beatrice replied sharply. “Her.”
The drive started quietly. Rain began to fall, tapping softly against the windshield. I stared out at the blurred city lights fading into the dark.