Chapter 4

Outside the door, I desperately cried out, "I didn't mean to bully him! I just lost my footing!"

The door didn't open.

I pounded on the door, my hands quickly turning red and numb from the cold.

Finally, I gave up. Turning around, I stumbled through the snowy night.

My house slippers quickly soaked through; the snowmelt seeped in, freezing my toes until they were numb.

I walked aimlessly, not knowing where to go. For the first time in twenty years, I realized that outside the Hayes family, I had nowhere to go.

The pain in my abdomen started again, more intensely this time. I crouched by the roadside, curled into a ball, trying to ease the pain.

After who knows how long, I stood up and continued walking. I had to go home, I had to explain clearly that I wasn't faking illness, I was truly sick, I didn't want the people I loved most to misunderstand me…

I went to the family company. Every time I came before, the receptionist would smile and call me "Mr. Liam," and the security guard would respectfully open the door.

Now, they stopped me at the entrance.

"Mr. Hayes… no, sir, you cannot enter." The receptionist's eyes darted away.

"Mr. Hayes (senior) gave instructions not to let you in."

I went to the convenience store on the corner and borrowed the public phone. My fingers were so numb they wouldn't cooperate; it took several tries to dial the right numbers.

I called Mom first. A long busy signal, then it automatically hung up.

Then I called Dad. The same result.

Finally, relying on memory, I called Chloe.

I had never called her before; I'd seen her number accidentally once and couldn't quite remember it.

After a few beeps, the call connected.

I surprisingly felt like crying, my voice thick with tears. "Chloe, can I come home? It's so cold outside, and I feel terrible…"

A stranger's voice came from the other end, an old woman. "Child, you've dialed the wrong number, haven't you?"

I hastily apologized, hung up, and left the convenience store.

The shopkeeper looked at me with pity. I lowered my head, afraid to meet his gaze.

Sitting on a park bench by the road, I curled up.

My stomach hurt terribly. I clutched my abdomen, cold sweat beading on my forehead, yet I felt feverish in the cold wind.

Just then, someone hugged me.

I looked up and saw an older woman in a worn-out winter coat. She looked to be in her fifties, her face etched with deep wrinkles. But her eyes were so gentle, so gentle they made me want to cry.

"Liam, it's Mom," she choked out, her rough hand stroking my cheek. "I'm your biological mother, we've been looking for you for so long…"

She looked very shabby, her winter coat's cuffs shiny from wear, its color faded.

My mind was a jumbled mess, but her embrace was so warm. In that moment, I clung to that warmth, like a drowning person grasping at driftwood.

I buried my face in her shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably, crying out all my grievances, fears, and pain.

"There, there, don't cry anymore, Mom will take you home," she patted my back.

I had a home again.

She took me back to her home, a small, worn-out but clean bungalow.

"You rest here for now, Mom will go get you something to eat."

She tucked the blanket around me, her eyes gentle. "Look at your pale face, you must be frozen, dear?"

I sniffed, lying quietly under the covers.

My stomach hurt badly, but I didn't say anything.

I was afraid that if I did, this little bit of warmth would also disappear.

She left for a while and didn't return.

I needed to use the restroom. Struggling to get up, I realized there was no bathroom inside; I had to go to the outhouse.

As I reached the door, I heard her talking to another man, just outside.