Free Web NovelChapter 174: Chapter 174 The Scar He Carries
Christina’s POV
Gwendolyn hadn’t expected me to contradict her so directly. She licked her lips, her voice slightly breathless. "I didn’t lie. I only said we could have dinner together—"
"Enough," Hudson cut in. "You knew exactly what you were doing. Try this again, and you’ll never step foot in this house again."
He turned to Reginald. "And you. You’ve been idle too long. There’s a construction site in Namibia that needs supervision. HR will send you a plane ticket."
Reginald jumped up from the sofa. "You can’t be serious! I’m your father! You’re sending me to Africa?"
"You can resign," Hudson said coldly. "But you’ll walk away with nothing. No shares, no dividends. You’ll be destitute before the week ends. Your choice."
Reginald’s mouth opened, then closed without uttering a word.
Then Hudson looked at Declan.
Declan raised his right hand as if taking an oath. "I swear I wasn’t involved. It was Mom who pulled Christina into this, not me. Please don’t freeze my bank accounts."
Hudson glanced back at Edouard.
"I’m wasting my breath with you. Focus on surviving the winter."
Then he reached for my hand.
"We’re leaving."
We walked out.
The air outside was damp and cool against my neck.
He opened the car door.
I got in.So did he.
But he didn’t start the engine.
He just sat there, jaw clenched, one hand gripping the steering wheel so tightly I thought he might snap it.
"I thought things weren’t that bad with your family," I said softly. "Last time they seemed decent enough. You said you got married just to make your grandfather happy so everyone would leave you alone, so I thought... I just wanted to do something for your birthday."
My voice grew progressively quieter, and I couldn’t seem to stop talking.
My hands were tightly clasped on my lap, fingers intertwined as if they had a mind of their own.
"But I was stupid. I didn’t think it through. Yesterday I was busy with Ysolde, and when your stepmother called, I—I blanked. I should have asked you first. I shouldn’t have gone alone. I messed up."
I swallowed.
"It’s my fault. I’m sorry."
The car remained motionless.
No engine hum, just darkness inside except for the faint silver glow coming through the windshield.
I couldn’t make out his expression, only the rigid line of his jaw.
"I understand if you’re angry," I said, raising my voice this time. "Go ahead and yell at me if you want." freёweɓnovel.com
"I won’t," he said, turning to look at me. "That’s Gwendolyn’s specialty. Sweet words, friendly facade, knife in the back. You didn’t know. This is my fault. I should have warned you what kind of family this is."
He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling through his nose.
"I’m not angry. I’m just—" his voice caught.
He cleared his throat, but it didn’t help. "My mother died today. On this exact day."
I looked up.
Moonlight washed over his face, highlighting the contours, filtering through the shadows cast by tree branches outside.
He wasn’t crying, but his lips were pressed tight, his eyes hollow and heavy with a pain I recognized too well.
Hudson had always seemed unshakeable to me.
Powerful, controlled, the Alpha who commanded rooms and brought men to their knees.
But in that moment, I saw the cracks in the armor.
He wasn’t a king right now. He was just a man with a wound that wouldn’t heal.
I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him.
"Tell me," I said against his shoulder. "If you want to."
Hudson sat rigid beside me, tension radiating off him in waves. I rested my hand on his back, rubbing in slow, gentle circles. At first, he remained stiff, as if unaccustomed to such a gentle touch.
After a few moments, his shoulders finally sagged. He released a shaky breath, lowering his head until his face was buried in the crook of my neck.
Then, he held on tight.
Silence filled the car. Even the city traffic seemed distant, muffled by the walls of the private garage. He shifted closer, wrapping his arms around me, the leather seats creaking softly under his weight. freeweɓnøvel.com
I’ve never seen him like this before.
"He’s completely opening up to you," Akira murmured in my mind. "Don’t push him."
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough and strained, as if dragging the words out physically hurt him.
"I moved back to the Sabreridge territory when I was ten. Nobody wanted me there. Gwendolyn played the saint in public, but behind closed doors, she ordered the staff to torment me. Once, they convinced me to climb a tree to retrieve Declan’s kite. They’d already partially sawed through a branch. I fell and smashed my back on a rock. I still carry the scar."
I continued rubbing his back, a steady rhythm. I couldn’t see the scar, nor could I know the extent of the pain, but I stayed close, letting him lean on me, offering him an anchor.
"When I got back up, I saw her. Gwendolyn. She was hiding behind the shed, watching me with this nasty, thin smile. That was the moment I realized. Just looking at her face... she wanted to see me broken, and the staff were her willing accomplices."
He rested his forehead against my shoulder.
"When they shipped me off overseas, Edouard was supposed to send allowance. But she intercepted it. Every penny. If Declan hadn’t secretly wired me cash, I would’ve starved. He didn’t even give a damn about me back then. He just... didn’t want my death on his conscience."
I traced small circles on his spine, waiting.
Then I asked softly, "Tell me about your mother."
"She was with Reginald before Gwendolyn entered the picture. They were already together. But she lacked a powerful bloodline, so he married Gwendolyn instead. He kept my mother around for years, stringing her along with lies that he’d leave Gwendolyn someday. She believed him."
Akira growled low in my mind. "Typical power-hungry Alpha behavior. Discarding a mate for status."
I could see where this story was heading.
"Gwendolyn came to our house several times, screaming. Once she even shattered a window. I was about five. My mother couldn’t take it anymore. Things spiraled year after year. One morning, she seemed fine. It was my birthday. She made me toast and waved goodbye like always. When I came home that night... she was lying cold on the bed, face up. Still wearing her slippers."
He suddenly pulled back, staring intently out the window.
