When I Lost My Emotions, He Lost Me Forever

Chapter 8

Elara watched him in silence.

Lucas was her own flesh and blood, the child she had once risked her life to protect.

The flicker of discomfort and tension on his face was unmistakable.

But in the end, he was only a ten-year-old boy.

Elara couldn't help thinking that maybe somewhere in his heart, a trace of longing for his birth mother still remained.

Lucas set the insulated food container on the table, unscrewed the lid, and the rich aroma of chicken soup filled the air.

He poured some into the container's cup lid and held it out to Elara. "Here, have some."

Elara looked at him without speaking for several heartbeats.

She told herself, "Just this once. I'll trust him one last time."

The soup tasted perfect, exactly the way Martha always made it.

Yet after only a few sips, a strange dizziness hit her. Her limbs turned heavy, and the bowl nearly slipped from her numb fingers.

Just as she'd thought...

Elara let out a bitter laugh inwardly.

A cruel aftereffect of those years on the island. Being forced by N.V. into drug experiments had left her body resistant to many substances.

That was why her mind was still clear now.

But her body was paralyzed, unable to move a single finger.

Lucas stepped closer, his voice thick with tears, resentment, and fear.

"Don't blame me... This is your fault... Why did you have to come back? Dad loves Vivienne now. We're happy. Why did you have to ruin everything? Vivienne is my only mother! I don't want you taking Dad away from her!"

Then something cold touched her cheek.

It was a knife.

Elara's heart dropped into darkness.

A second later, sharp pain tore through her.

Lucas had actually dragged the blade across her face.

The pain was blinding, but it was nothing compared to the freezing emptiness in her chest.

This was the son she had nearly died to bring into the world.

At last, Lucas, either exhausted or horrified by Elara's mangled face, let out a sharp cry, threw the knife aside, and bolted from the hospital room without looking back.

Elara lay there, completely unable to move, her face burning with searing pain, yet her heart had already gone numb.

Moments later, footsteps approached, steady and familiar.

Elara knew at once that it was Sebastian.

He stopped beside the bed and silently looked down at her face.

After a long pause, he murmured, almost to himself, "Lucas is still just a child. He didn't have the heart to finish it. Elara, don't hate me. Only by destroying that face of yours can I cut off those foolish fantasies and keep you obediently out of sight."

As his words faded, another wave of agony tore through her.

This time, the force was much stronger and much crueler than Lucas's.

Elara could even feel the blade scraping against bone.

Sebastian was determined to completely ruin her face.

Under the crushing weight of physical and emotional pain, the last shred of her consciousness was swallowed by darkness.

Elara blacked out completely.

How badly she wanted to sleep forever.

Yet a voice kept telling her there were still unfinished things she had to do.

And so, Elara fought her way back to consciousness.

When she saw the familiar decor in front of her, she couldn't help but laugh.

She had finally returned to Blackwood Estate, just as she had wanted.

After the father and son had disfigured her, to make sure she had no chance to recover, Sebastian had discharged her while she was still unconscious and brought her back to Blackwood Estate.

Perhaps the extra cuts he had inflicted with his own hand had stirred a trace of guilt in him.

When she woke up, Elara noticed that Sebastian's attitude toward her had softened considerably.

He no longer ignored her or mocked her with cold indifference the way he had before. Sometimes, he would ask about her meals, silently allowing her a small place in the household, even faintly implying that she could stay there for good.

As for Lucas, after the initial shock and avoidance, he slowly began inching back toward Elara in his stiff, awkward way.

He would hide around hallway corners and watch her, or push the vegetables he hated to the side of his plate during meals, his eyes drifting toward her without meaning to, just as they used to when Elara patiently coaxed him to eat them.

One day, he suddenly blurted out, "I want your almond custard. I haven't had it in forever."

Almond custard had been Lucas's favorite dessert as a child, and it was Elara's specialty.

Her heart remained empty, yet she still went into the kitchen and made him a fresh serving of almond custard.

Lucas ate every last bite.

That very night, Vivienne found searches for "how to fix facial scars" and "scar revision surgery" in Lucas's browser history.

As Vivienne watched those fragile sparks of connection flicker back to life between mother and son, jealousy churned through her like poison.

She would never allow anything to slip beyond her control.

So the next time Lucas ate Elara's almond custard, he was soon rushed to the hospital with anaphylactic shock.