Chapter 165
Chapter 164
“Moonbeam, your father’s hiking accident-I have always felt something was terribly wrong about it p>
My grandmother’s lips trembled violently as she spoke.
“The timing was too convenient. Just days before it happened, your uncles came to my house screaming about the Reese Group’s shares and dividends. And then, just days later-your father-he was gone. The rogues suspected, they were found mutilated a week later p>
“Grandma, are you saying p>
I watched as my grandmother squeezed her eyes shut.
She gave a single nod that carried the weight of a lifetime’s betrayals.
“I accused them, but they-they banished me to that remote rural area on the outskirts as if it were a
prison. There were beatings and curses. They monitored my every move like I was a criminal p>
Her gnarled fingers scrabbled at her threadbare sleeve.
“It was not just those ungrateful sons of mine. The spoiled pups they raised forgot who nurtured them. After all my sacrifices, not one of them remembered this dying old woman p>
“When your father died, they stole everything from us- everything, except for this one thing.” Her fingers spasmed with pent-up emotion. “You need to cut it open, Moonbeam p>
My heart hammered against my ribs as I fought back the tempest of grief and fury churning inside me.
I sprang up to fetch a pair of scissors.
Holding my breath, I precisely cut along the frayed edges of the patch that had concealed my grandmother’s secret for over a decade.
There, nestled within the hidden layer of fabric, lay a delicate golden key, tiny but intricately wrought.
“Grandma, what is this?” I gasped, pinching the little key between my fingers.
“It is the spare key to your father’s chest,” Grandma whispered. “Your dad had a chest that held his most precious belongings. He hid this spare key with me for safekeeping, just in case something ever
happened p>
Her gnarled hands shook as she pressed the key into my open palm.
“Your mother took that chest when she fled with you. All these years, I lied to your uncles. I told them I was the one who hid it to shield you both from their cruelty. That is why-why they treated me so terribly p>
Her entire frame convulsed with remembered terror.
“But now that you are here, and now that you hold this key, I am finally at peace. This is my redemption, for
your father and for myself p>
TED MOUBIS
Her words dissolved into uncontrollable sobs.
I stared at the key, so small yet weighing like lead in my palm.
All this time, I had wondered why my wicked uncles and cruel cousins had never pursued me in
Edmonton.
Now I understood that my grandmother had been my living shield, enduring unspeakable suffering in my stead.
Clutching each other tightly, we’re sobbing unrestrainedly in the hushed hospital room, our tears washing away years of buried sorrow, rage, and longing.
I stood like a sentry at the doorway, my forehead creased with concern as I watched the heart-wrenching scene through the narrow observation window.
After taking a deep breath, I eased the door open.
I approached Claire from behind. I placed my hand on her trembling shoulder. I would never admit how
much seeing her cry affects me within.
“Alright, Claire. Grandma’s health comes first. She cannot handle such intense emotional turmoil right
now p>
Claire’s sobs cut off abruptly.
“Thank you.” She looked up, but all that escaped were two trembling words.
I said nothing in reply.
I sank to one knee beside the hospital bed. My voice softened.
“Mrs. Reese, you are completely safe here. This place has security comparable to a fortress. Not even an uninvited mosquito could slip in. You need to focus on resting. I will take Claire to get some food because she needs to regroup p>
“Oh, what a fine young man,” the older woman’s eyes sparkled as she studied me. “A perfect match for our
little Moonbeam p>
Then she added casually, dropping a bombshell, only confirming what I had thought I was misunderstanding in one of my mother’s journal entries.
“But of course, it is only natural. You two have promised to be together since infancy. One particular night, the sky burst with dozens of shooting stars, which is a sign of the Goddess’s approval of this arranged match. Knowing you have found your way together at last-ah, I can finally rest easy p>
The words “arranged marriage” hit the room like a thunderclap.
Matthew was correct. I was sure I was misunderstanding, but what he failed to relay was that the match
wasn’t with his acquaintance’s daughter; it was with Claire.
“Mrs. Reese,” I asked, my voice suddenly hoarse, “what did you just say? An arranged mating? That can’t be true. My mother was against them; she wanted me to have true love p>
She chuckled lightly. “And what do you think the shooting stars were a sign of what was to come? The Goddess recognized a mismatch for you both separately, and blessed the union p>
Her gaze drifted pointedly to the rare Patek Philippe watch gleaming at my wrist. She nudged her chin
toward it.
“That watch? Your parents brought you to Calgary to meet Claire when she was just born. After both families agreed to the betrothal, her father took it right off his own wrist and gave it to you. Surely you
must have known about this p>
Every muscle in my body locked.
That watch-I had found it buried in his mother’s most private safe after her passing.
It was a man’s design, and I had always assumed it was an intended coming-of-age gift from her. It was priceless to me, not for its monetary value, but as my last tangible connection to her.
So this was not my mother’s keepsake after all, but an engagement token from Claire’s father?
I could see that Claire was equally stunned.
Her fingers rose to touch the smooth jade pendant at her throat. “And Grandma told me your parents gave
me this when I was born p>
Our eyes turned toward each other simultaneously. For one electric moment, a spark seemed to pass
between us, and then we both quickly looked away, visibly flustered.
I leaned forward urgently and took Claire’s grandmother’s thin wrist in my hand. My voice dropped to an
urgent whisper. “Mrs. Reese,” I asked, “can you tell me exactly how close my parents were with Claire’s p>
Lucia Morh
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.