Chapter 130
After hearing Mrs. Marigold’s harsh words, Cormac fell silent. He knew speaking up for Galatea would only make things worse for her. For the sake of peace, he decided it was better to just let it slide.
“Mrs. Marigold, you’re right. I was wrong,” Cormac conceded with a sigh, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “I’ll keep an eye on Alaric, so you don’t have to worry.”
Mrs. Marigold sighed deeply, her worry about Alaric’s health now mixing with the weight of her bigger concern: how she would ever tell him about Caspian’s origins. The thought of how everything would unfold made her stomach churn.
“Cormac,” she said, her tone almost pleading, “has your father said anything to you recently?”
Cormac knew what she was getting at. She was worried that Griffon had already shared something with him about Caspian’s true parentage, and if he did, it would be disastrous for her. Cormac could see her anxiety, but he shook his head.
“Mrs. Marigold, you know our relationship well. We barely talk these days. If my father knew something, he wouldn’t tell me,” he said, trying to calm her nerves.
She looked at him, puzzled. “Is your relationship still so strained after all these years?”
Cormac forced a smile, but it was clear he didn’t want to delve into the strained relationship he had with his father. It was a complicated matter, and there were only so many words to explain it.
“I… Well, that’s a complicated question,” he said softly, deciding not to go into it.
Mrs. Marigold gave him a small nod of understanding before sighing again. Her gaze turned distant as she began to speak more openly. “On this matter, I must speak for your father. As parents, we all want what’s best for our children, but you… you’re too young to understand love and emotions properly. You come from a noble and wealthy family. If you want to find someone for yourself, they need to come from a similar background. Those from lower classes—well, they’re usually just after your money. They should be avoided.”
Cormac, who had heard his father say similar things in the past, was struck by how aligned Mrs. Marigold’s views were with Griffon’s. He couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like for him and Galatea if they were to be a couple, especially with such societal expectations hanging over them.
“Mrs. Marigold, I understand what you mean,” Cormac said, trying to lighten the mood. “But, just out of curiosity, what would you do if Alaric insisted on marrying Galatea?”
Mrs. Marigold’s face turned red with anger. “He wouldn’t dare!” she spat, her voice harsh. “Unless he disowns me as his mother, I would never allow that kind of woman into our family.”
Cormac felt a wave of sympathy for Alaric. If Mrs. Marigold was so rigid in her views, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of future Alaric and Galatea could have. He prayed that Galatea wouldn’t end up like his unfortunate ex-girlfriend, who had suffered under the pressure of similar expectations.
Meanwhile, Galatea was in the midst of a deep sleep. She had been exhausted, and it seemed like nothing could wake her. Her mind was lost in a dream, one she had had before—a dream of their wedding. In this dream, however, things went awry as she was arrested by the police, forcing her to wake up from the nightmare in cold sweats. But this time, her dream was blissful. The air felt light and joyful, and in the end, they shared a sweet kiss. She couldn’t help but smile at the memory, even as she was still lost in the dream.
Her smile lingered, even after her eyes fluttered open, and she realized she was still in Alaric’s arms. The moment she became aware of him, she quickly wiped the corner of her mouth where a little drool had collected, embarrassed.
“Awake?” Alaric asked gently, his voice full of tenderness as he looked at her.
Galatea nodded, still feeling the warmth of the dream. “Yeah,” she replied, but then her gaze turned to the window, and she noticed that the light outside was fading. It was almost evening. “Are you hungry? What do you want to eat?”
Alaric’s eyes lit up with a smile. “I want to eat those noodles you cook. They were really delicious.”
Galatea chuckled to herself. “It was just a bowl of plain noodles,” she said, bemused. “Are you sure they were that good?”
Alaric nodded eagerly. “Yes, they were. They’re the best noodles I’ve ever had.”
“Alright,” she said with a smile. “I’ll buy some ingredients and cook them for you.”
The hospital room had a small kitchenette, so it was easy for her to get the ingredients and prepare the meal. But as she started to move to leave, Alaric stopped her.
“It’s my fault,” he said, his voice suddenly turning serious. “I should’ve bought you a car a long time ago. What kind of model do you like? I’ll buy it for you.”
Galatea froze, her hand on the door. “No, please don’t!” she said quickly. “We haven’t even formalized our relationship yet, and your mom is back. I’m already anxious about living in the house you arranged. If you buy me a car, she’ll blame me for everything!”
Alaric raised an eyebrow, still intent on the idea. “But you’re my fiancée. Spending my money is a small matter.”
Galatea gave him a firm look. “That’s how you think, but your mom won’t. I don’t want to be seen as a ‘sinner’ or a gold-digger in her eyes. I’m already in enough trouble just living in your house.”
Alaric sighed. “I get it,” he said, though he seemed slightly frustrated. “Alright, no car. But I’ll still get you something nice.”
Galatea shook her head, smiling at his persistence. “Alright, I’m going out to buy noodles. I’ll be back soon.”
She left, and Alaric watched her go with a sense of quiet admiration. As much as he wanted to spoil her, he knew it wouldn’t sit well with Mrs. Marigold. His mother’s opinion weighed heavily on him, even now.
Still thinking about his mom, Alaric picked up his phone and called her.
“Hello, Alaric,” Mrs. Marigold’s voice came through, sounding slightly stiff. “I went to the hospital to see you today, but the door was locked, and you were asleep, so I didn’t disturb you.”
Alaric felt a flash of irritation. Did she come while he was with Galatea? It was a good thing she hadn’t seen them together, or she would’ve exploded on the spot.
“Mom, I’m fine. You don’t need to visit so often,” he said bluntly. “Actually, I called to talk about Caspian.”
At the mention of Caspian, Mrs. Marigold’s voice instantly shifted to something more defensive. “Caspian?” she asked, her tone immediately guilty. “What’s the matter with him?”
Alaric’s voice grew colder. “How could you treat him like that? You ignored him when he was a child, and I never said anything. But calling him a bastard? That’s too much. He’s just a child, and he’s your grandson. How could you speak like that?”
Mrs. Marigold’s frustration flared. “Did that brat whine to you? Such a young child, already knows how to tattle on me!”
“Mom, instead of reflecting on what you’ve done, you’re blaming him for telling the truth?” Alaric’s anger was evident now. “You’re being unreasonable!”
Mrs. Marigold’s tone grew more irate. “How dare you speak to me like that? I’m your mother!”
“I know you are, and I know you care about me. But I just don’t understand why you treat Caspian this way. He’s your grandson!” Alaric’s voice was almost pleading, but his words were sharp with frustration.
Mrs. Marigold’s deflection only made him angrier. “I… I just don’t like him,” she muttered, trying to justify herself.
“How can you just not like him?” Alaric was almost incredulous. “Isn’t he your grandson? He’s talented, well-behaved. Why don’t you like him?”
When Mrs. Marigold gave no clear answer, Alaric was hit with a sudden suspicion. His mind raced—was she hiding something? Did she already know that he knew more than he let on?
The silence between them was tense, and Mrs. Marigold’s panic was palpable. Does he know? She thought, her mind scrambling for an excuse.
“I… I just don’t,” she repeated, but her voice lacked conviction.
Alaric’s suspicion grew stronger. Something was definitely off. But what? What was she hiding?